America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

The next morning, Arthur was writing an article at the newspaper office when the door was suddenly pushed open.

Three young men walked in.

The first one was the tallest, at least six feet three inches, with shoulders as broad as a door. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his thick arms.

The second one was slightly shorter, but more muscular, with well-defined muscles and a sharp gaze.

The third one was the youngest, looking to be in his early twenties. He was lean, with slightly messy brown hair, and a youthful confidence and impulsiveness on his face.

The three people stood at the door, all staring at Arthur.

Arthur looked up and sized them up. His first thought was that these three, along with two supporting role players, could probably make a decent basketball team.

If we put this in the 21st century, the tallest one would be like a white version of Shaquille O'Neal, the sturdier one would be like a power forward like Blake Griffin, and the youngest one would resemble a young Kobe Bryant.

Of course, this is on the premise that they can play basketball.

"Mr. Kennedy?" the tallest one asked, his voice booming.

"It's me, and you are..." Arthur put down his pen.

"I am Sean O'Reilly, and Patrick is my father," said the tallest one.

"I am Connor O'Reilly, and Patrick is my uncle," the second person said.

"I am Liam O'Reilly, and Patrick is my uncle," said the youngest one.

After the three finished speaking, they simultaneously extended their right hands.

Arthur paused for a moment, then smiled. He stood up and shook hands with the three people in turn.

"My father said that from today onwards, the three of us will protect you, and I'll be in charge during the day," Sean said.

"I'll be in charge of the nights," Connor said.

"I'm mobile; I'll go wherever I'm needed," Liam added.

Arthur looked at them and the more he looked, the more they seemed like a team from an American high school on a team-building trip. He asked:

"Do you have experience as bodyguards?"

The three people exchanged a glance.

Sean was honest: "No, but we'll fight."

"Last time there was trouble at the docks, I took down five of them all by myself," Liam said, his voice filled with pride.

"That's because I took down three of them first," Connor immediately retorted.

"But the five I took down were even more formidable," Liam said.

Sean shouted, "Both of you shut up! The most powerful one is the foreman I took down. He's worth all of you taking down!"

The three of them started arguing, and their voices grew louder and louder.

Arthur looked at them and felt as if his office had suddenly turned into a dressing room, so he quickly interrupted them.

"Alright, I believe you're all capable fighters. But the question now is, can you protect me instead of fighting in my office?"

The three of them immediately stopped arguing and stared at him.

"Of course, Mr. Kennedy, we were just...discussing tactics," Sean said.

"Yes, tactics," Connor agreed.

"We professionals always discuss things before we do anything," Liam added.

Arthur suppressed a laugh. Tactics? These three have never even been bodyguards, what tactics would they have?

Just then, Isabella walked in.

She paused for a moment when she saw three tall young men in the office.

"Arthur, they are...?"

"My bodyguards were sent by Uncle Patrick," Arthur said with a hint of helplessness.

Isabella glanced at the three men, then at Arthur. She had clearly noticed their height as well.

"They looked...very intimidating," she said.

"Yes, it's very intimidating. As long as they don't argue in my office about who took down more people."

The three of them lowered their heads somewhat embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kennedy, we'll be more careful next time," Sean said.

"I am Isabella Harrison, editor-in-chief of the New York Herald," Isabella introduced herself.

Sean's eyes widened: "Harrison? Is that Harrison?"

"Yes," Isabella said.

The three of them looked somewhat reserved.

Isabella smiled. "Don't be nervous, I won't eat people. Besides, you're here to protect Arthur, which is good."

"Yes, ma'am. We will do our best."

Just then, Hemingway pushed open the door and came in.

He saw the three tall young men, paused for a moment, and then smiled.

"Arthur, are you recruiting for a football team?"

"No, they are my bodyguards," Arthur said.

Hemingway sized up the three men and nodded. "Not bad, looks like they can fight. Irish?"

"Yes, sir," Sean said.

"Very good," Hemingway said, pulling a bottle from his pocket. "Here, have a sip."

"Now? But we're at work." Sean looked at Arthur.

"A sip of water before work can give you more courage," Hemingway said.

Liam's eyes lit up, but Connor immediately pulled him back.

"Mr. Hemingway, thank you for your kindness, but we can't drink right now. We need to stay sober and protect Mr. Kennedy." Connor was the brains of the team.

Hemingway looked at Connor and smiled: "You have principles. Okay, then we'll drink after you guys get off work."

He looked at Arthur: "You've found three good bodyguards. They can fight, and they have principles."

"I wish they would protect me, not hold tactical seminars in my office," Arthur said.

The three of them felt a little embarrassed.

"Alright, let's talk about the work arrangements. Sean, you'll be on daytime duty, start working with me now. Connor, you'll relieve me at eight tonight. Liam, you'll patrol the area, and notify us immediately if anything happens."

"Understood, Mr. Kennedy," the three men said in unison.

"Also, if we really encounter danger, you must protect me, but don't act impulsively. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Don't worry, Mr. Kennedy, we're tough as nails."

"And we'll look out for each other," Connor said.

"If anyone dares to hurt you, we'll make them regret it," Liam said, clenching his fist.

Arthur looked at them, these three young men, who, though a bit impulsive and argumentative, genuinely wanted to protect him.

Then Connor and Liam left. Sean stood by the door, arms crossed, like a statue.

Arthur sat back down in his chair and continued writing.

But after writing a few lines, he couldn't help but look up at Sean.

The young man stood ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on the doorway, motionless. If it weren't for the occasional blink, Arthur would have wondered if he were a statue.

"Sean," Arthur called out to him.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy?" Sean immediately turned around.

"You don't have to stand so stiffly, you can relax a bit," Arthur said.

"But I'm at work. My father said to be serious when you're working. Mr. Kennedy, you don't need to worry about me. I'm happy to be here to protect you."

Arthur smiled and could only let O'Neal stand like a statue in his doorway.