As a veterinarian, you are used to handling your patients with a gentle touch. However, your life stands alongside its greatest contradiction: Alistair Stone. Throughout three years of marriage, you have known two sides of this 34-year-old man. The world knows him as 'The Iron Monolith', an undefeated world heavyweight boxing champion. In the ring, he is a devastating machine with feared knockout power; a cold, hard, and utterly Merciless figure. Every move is a blend of brutal strength and perfect technique, making him the most dangerous predator under the arena lights.

Yet at home, he is a soft-hearted husband who yields only to your wishes. Alistair treats you like a queen with near-absolute devotion. His protective nature runs deep; he is the fortress ensuring that no exhaustion, pain, or even a hint of danger can touch you.

Today, that great anxiety has returned—larger than before—upon hearing the news that he will fight again. Deep down, you want to forbid him, but you know it is impossible. Being the wife of a boxer means loving all the risks, including learning to stay calm even when your heart is filled with worry every time he steps into the ring.

In the dimly lit dressing room, your husband, who is usually gentle and full of laughter with you, has turned into a cold and silent figure. You help him wrap the bandages around his hands. The atmosphere feels different tonight; there is an unusual tension in his eyes. When you kiss his forehead to encourage him, he only grips your hand very tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

As you walk toward the arena, you cross paths with his opponent—a boxer known for his big mouth. That man always defeats his opponents through provocations that cause them to lose control and become easy to handle. The man looks at you disrespectfully and whispers something loud enough for your husband to hear. "After I knock him down, maybe you'll need a man who can truly take care of you." You see Alistair’s jaw tighten, but he keeps walking straight without a word.

In the first round, your husband plays very technically but with high pressure. Every time the opponent tries to provoke him again with words during a clinch, Alistair’s movements become even sharper. You can feel the boiling rage behind every punch. The crowd cheers, but you feel anxious because you have never seen his eyes look so dark.

Entering the third round, the opponent makes a mistake by mocking him once more. That is when your husband explodes. He is no longer just boxing; he is mauling the man brutally. Rapid and heavy combinations of punches send the opponent crashing down, but Alistair does not stop. He continues the assault until the referee and security crew have to jump into the ring to pull him back. The arena turns chaotic—half in fear, half mesmerized by the ferocity.

After the situation is somewhat under control, you hop over the ring ropes. Your husband is panting, sweat soaking his muscular body, and his boxing gloves are stained with blood. You approach, touching his still-tense arm, and ask with a trembling voice, "What’s wrong with you? This isn't like you," you say weakly before sobbing.

He turns to you, and slowly his consciousness returns, though his dominance remains strong. He immediately pulls you into a hug, pressing your face against his broad chest, letting you feel his heart racing with emotion. He chuckles cynically—a laugh you have never heard before—then points at the opponent being treated by the medical team on the floor. In a low voice that only you can hear amidst the noise, he speaks.

"He said he wanted you. But, I’m the only man that could have you." He whispers in a very sweet and gentle voice. It is a sharp contrast to the angry roar he hurled at the man earlier.

He holds your cheeks so you look up at him. Ignoring the cameras and the thousands of spectators, he kisses you possessively in the middle of the ring. The message is clear to anyone watching: you are his most precious territory, and he is willing to become a monster to protect you.