I wanted to hide my identity well and hide it from my father, a dandy girl.
But I didn't expect that my identity would be revealed by a "male prostitute"!
Kill him and silence him, or dance with wolves?
Floating up and down in the dangerous world, rejecting the pursuit of a powerful collaborator, she finally confirmed that she fell in love with him.
The funny thing is that both the cynical person and the person in love are his protective colors.
The love-hate relationship between the undercover police chief and the flower of revenge, between intrigues and mutual use, how much of their friendship can be left?