Reborn as Taylor's Bodyguard

My name is Caleb.

This was my third year as a drifter. My name, along with my dignity, had long ago been trampled into the sewers with the city's mud. Here, I had only one designation: Hey, that homeless guy.

"Hey, that homeless guy, come over here and clear away this pile of trash."

A man in respectable loungewear stood beneath the spotless porch of his home, pinching his nose as he pointed at a heap of construction debris that reeked of rot. It was left over from his renovations, but he was too cheap to pay a professional disposal company. So he thought of me, a free laborer who looked strong and wandered around near his house every day.

It all started because he had seen me searching for food in his trash can the day before. Instead of cursing and chasing me away like everyone else, he had flashed a shrewd smile and asked, "Do you want something to eat?"

Of course I did. I had not eaten a proper meal in two days.

"Clean this up for me and I'll give you twenty dollars."

So I worked like an old draft horse, spending the entire morning carrying the pile of trash, piece by piece, to the recycling point designated by the community. My T-shirt had long since been soaked through with sweat and stained gray by dust. The solid muscles that did not match my timid personality were trembling slightly from exhaustion.

When I finally finished the work and returned to the beautiful door, expecting a hot meal, the man merely handed me a donut in a paper bag, with a mocking smile of charity on his face.

"Giving you something to eat is already generous. You still want your wages? A homeless man with enough strength to work should be grateful. Do you believe that if I make one phone call, the community officer will throw you out along with those rags?"

My lips trembled. I wanted to say something, perhaps "That was our agreement" or "I finished the job," but when I saw his smug, unafraid expression, all my courage deflated like a punctured ball. I was too hungry and too tired. I no longer had the strength to argue about anything.

I silently took the donut, lowered my head like a defeated dog, and prepared to leave.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the huge LCD television in his living room. On the screen, a golden-haired girl who looked too dazzling to be human was singing with a guitar beneath a sea of stars. Her voice was like a warm current, instantly cutting through all the cold and exhaustion clinging to me.

It was Taylor.

My eyes lit up at once. None of the misfortune and pain of my previous life had been able to erase my love for her. She was the only light in my life, the only star I could look up to from the filthiest mud.

"You like Taylor too!" I forgot who I was and forgot the humiliation in front of me. Like a child, I pointed excitedly at the television, my voice filled with the delight of finding someone who shared my interests. "I like her too!"

The man's wife came out of the living room when she heard me. The couple looked at me as if they had been insulted by something filthy, and their faces instantly turned livid.

"Get away from here!" the woman screamed, her voice piercing. "How dare you? A lazy parasite living on welfare, a shameless maggot sucking blood from taxpayers - what right do you have to like the same person we do?"

"Get out! Don't dirty my yard!" the man impatiently waved his hand as if he were shooing away a fly.

Their poison-tipped words made me shudder all over. I stumbled backward several steps, practically fleeing. That day, every bite of the supposedly sweet donut in my mouth tasted bitter.

Back on the street, I curled up in a corner of an alley and slowly chewed my bitter lunch. Suddenly, an enormous roar came from the roof of a nearby building. A helicopter circled overhead, and countless green pieces of paper began drifting down like snow.

Money!

The crowd in the street erupted at once. Everyone screamed and shoved, rushing madly toward the falling "hope." I hesitated for a moment, then let the wealth raining from the sky overwhelm me too. I threw away the donut and charged into the crowd like a starving dog whose instincts had awakened, dropping to the ground and frantically gathering the bills.

"It's Old Henry! The oil tycoon! He's dying and decided to throw away all his cash!" someone shouted.

I did not care who it was. I only wanted to pick up money, as much money as possible. Then I could rent a tiny room and buy a clean bed instead of shivering in a drafty tent.

Just as I stuffed a handful of crumpled bills into my pocket, an indescribable stench suddenly exploded above my head. I looked up instinctively and saw a drug-addled addict squatting beside me on a fire hydrant, his face twisted. Apparently, he had not been able to hold it in. Brown, sour-smelling liquid erupted like a fountain and drenched me from head to toe.

Laughter and cheering burst out all around me.

"Hey! Look at that lucky guy! He's being showered in 'gold'!"

My mind went blank. The sticky warmth on my face and the stabbing stench in my nose sent my stomach into a frenzy. I vomited, bringing up even the little dirty water I had swallowed that morning.

Today was truly the worst.

Like a ghost, I returned to my "home," a shelter made from a few sheets of waterproof fabric and sticks. Beside it ran a small stream. I used the freezing water to wash my face and hair again and again until my skin was rubbed raw and bright red, yet I still felt as if the smell clung to me.

Exhausted, I collapsed onto a torn, moldy blanket and thought of Taylor. I remembered the news saying that she had recently completed an epic concert tour and given enormous bonuses to every employee involved, including the truck drivers. She was impossibly perfect: kind, generous, and immensely talented. She was nothing like my "employer," who had chased me away like a dog even though I had done the work.

Night fell, and the noisy sounds outside the tent gradually grew louder. I knew the other homeless people had gathered again.

"Bang! Bang!" My tent was kicked twice, hard.

The curtain was yanked open. Several tall figures blocked the entrance, wearing malicious smiles.

"Kid, I heard you got rich today?" The leader toyed with a small knife. "Hand it over. We will split it."

That was the rule here: survival of the fittest. I had seen people who resisted, only to have their legs broken and be left to fend for themselves. My body was corded with muscle and stronger than any of theirs, but my heart was like a frightened mouse. I was afraid of conflict, afraid of pain, and afraid of the knife glinting coldly in the darkness.

Trembling, I took the bills from my pocket. They had been warmed by my body and still carried a faint foul smell. The men snatched them away, then, unsatisfied, rummaged beneath my blanket and took the half donut I had hidden as tomorrow's food.

"Thanks, kid." They laughed and swaggered away.

The tent sank back into darkness and silence. I could not hold it in anymore. I buried my face in the foul-smelling blanket and began to sob like a child. Tears mixed with humiliation and despair as they slid silently down my face.

"God..." I cried out inwardly. "Am I really so sinful that I deserve this? Why is my life filled with so much pain? Poor, weak, treated as if I am not even human. I am like a tiny insect that anyone can flick away..."

In the depths of despair, Taylor's sparkling face from the television rose again in my mind.

"Taylor... my idol, my goddess..." It was like my final prayer. "May God protect you. May pain and depression never trouble you. May every beautiful thing surround you..."

I did not know how long passed before exhaustion blurred my consciousness. Outside the tent, the group was arguing over drugs again, and somewhere in the distance there seemed to be the faint sound of sirens. God, had someone died here again?

The night was cold. My fear of death and the unknown overwhelmed everything else. I shut my eyes, wrapped myself more tightly in the old moldy blanket, pretended I had heard nothing, and fell asleep in endless darkness and fear.

...

When I opened my eyes again, the expected cold and foul odor were nowhere to be found.

Instead, there was gentle sunlight, clean sheets, and the unmistakable smell of... fried bacon?

I sat up abruptly and looked around. This was not my shabby tent. This was a room I knew down to my bones: walls covered with basketball-star posters, a desk holding an old computer, and a well-worn finance textbook beside the bed.

This was... my bedroom when I was sixteen?

"Caleb! Are you still asleep? You are going to be late for school!" A clear female voice, tinged with impatience, came from outside the door.

My whole body jolted. That voice...

The door opened, and a young woman in a sharp professional suit, her short hair neatly styled, walked in. When she saw me sitting on the bed in my pajamas, she immediately frowned.

"Caleb Anderson, straighten your back. No slouching!" She came over and gave my back the familiar tap. "Hurry up. I have an important meeting at the record company today, so I can only drop you at the subway station on my way."

It was my sister, Claire. My living, breathing sister, who had not yet died in that car accident.

My eyes instantly filled with tears. I threw myself at her and hugged her tightly.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Claire was startled by my sudden embrace and pushed at me with mild annoyance. "How old are you? Stop acting like a baby. Go wash up, or I really will leave without you."

I sniffed hard, breathing in the familiar scent of my sister's perfume, and forced my tears back. I had been reborn. I had returned to a time when my sister was still alive and our family had not yet gone bankrupt.

At the breakfast table, Claire drank her coffee elegantly while browsing news on her tablet. "By the way, Caleb, you need to start thinking about college next year. I have told you many times that finance is the most promising major. Your mind is a little simple, but you could get into an ordinary business school and become a bank account manager after graduation. It would be stable..."

Finance.

The word pierced me like a needle. In my previous life, I had listened to Claire, studied finance even though I was terrible at it, and then, after she died, let so-called "friends" trick me out of all my money with a fake investment project. That was what had put me on the road of no return.

No. Not this time.

"Sis," I interrupted her. My voice was hoarse with excitement, but I worked hard to make it sound firm. "I am not going to study finance."

Claire raised her head and looked at me in surprise. "Not finance? Then what do you want to study? Apart from brute strength, what else can you do?"

"I am going to study sports." I lifted my head and, for the first time, dared to meet my sister's sharp eyes. "Sports are what I am good at. You always say I have a simple mind and well-developed limbs, don't you? Then I will take the well-developed-limbs part and do it as well as possible."

Claire froze. She had probably never imagined that the younger brother who always obeyed her would contradict her so firmly. She studied me for a long time. Just when I was almost unable to hold my ground, she finally nodded. "Fine. This is the path you chose. Do not regret it."

After resolving the greatest crossroads of my life, only one other wish remained in my heart, and it was even more important.

"Sis, don't you work as a manager at a record company?" I asked in an almost pleading tone. "I... I want to meet Taylor. I really like her. She is... my only idol."

At that time, Taylor had just released her first album and was rapidly rising to fame as a country singer.

Claire frowned again. "You are a grown man. Why are you chasing celebrities? Besides, she is very busy right now, and I..."

"Please, Sis!" I grabbed her hand. "Just let me look at her from far away. Just once!"

Perhaps the longing in my eyes was too intense. In the end, Claire softened. A few days later, she really did use her work connections to take me to the studio where Taylor was filming a music video.

When the girl who had appeared countless times on television and in my dreams stood alive in front of me, my mind went completely blank. I even forgot to breathe. She was brighter and more beautiful than she had ever looked on screen.

"This is my brother, Caleb." Claire introduced me with some helplessness. "Your biggest fan."

Taylor smiled and extended her hand. "Hello, Caleb. Thank you for your support."

Her voice was sweet and gentle. I hurriedly reached out and shook her hand lightly. It felt soft and small, while mine was like a rough stone. I was so nervous that my entire body stiffened, my mind in chaos, and I blurted out the words my sister had teased me with since childhood:

"Hello, Taylor. My name is Caleb... I have a simple mind and well-developed limbs..."

As soon as the words left my mouth, the nearby staff could not help laughing. My face flushed crimson, my tongue tied itself in knots, and I could not say another word.

Just as I was so embarrassed that I wanted to find a crack in the floor and disappear, I happened to overhear two staff members talking nearby.

"Scott, the head of security, is leaving next week to go home and get married. Taylor's personal bodyguard position will be open, and they still haven't found a suitable person..."

My heart gave a violent jump. A crazy idea struck me like lightning.

Use my physical advantages to protect my idol. Wasn't that exactly what I wanted to do after being reborn?

I did not know where the courage came from. I abruptly raised my head and said to everyone, and to Taylor as well, stumbling over the words but speaking incredibly loudly:

"I... I am willing! I am willing to become her bodyguard! I... I really like Taylor!"