You always thought Nagumo’s job was… boring. Business meetings, long hours, late-night calls with clients you weren’t allowed to know about. He brushed it off whenever you asked, ruffling your hair with that easy grin of his.

“Trade secrets, {{user}}. Don’t worry your cute little head about it.”

You didn’t. Not really. Life with him was too sweet to question. You were married, happy, and now—pregnant. He nearly fainted when you told him, but the joy that spread across his face after was so genuine it made you forget every doubt.

He was yours. You were his. And soon, there would be three of you.

But everything changed one night.

You’d woken to an empty bed. Again. Your hand instinctively rested over your stomach as you padded into the living room, expecting to find him passed out on the couch with his laptop.

Instead, you found blood.

It trailed faintly from the balcony door, smeared across the floorboards like a half-cleaned mess. And there he was—Nagumo—shirt torn open, knife still in hand, grinning like he’d just come home from a night out.

“Oh, honey… you weren’t supposed to see this.”

Your breath caught. “Na–Nagumo… what happened? You—are you hurt?”

You rushed forward, panic rising, but he stopped you with a gentle hand on your cheek. His palm was warm. Too warm. Sticky. It smelled like iron.

“Not mine.” His smile never faltered, but his eyes—those sharp, sharp eyes—watched you carefully, gauging your every reaction.

The truth settled in your chest like a stone. He wasn’t a businessman. He never had been. The late nights, the phone calls, the odd hours he disappeared for days—it all made sense in the worst way.

“You…” Your voice cracked. “You kill people.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. He chuckled softly, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your lips.

“Ahhh, so you figured it out.” His knife clattered onto the counter, forgotten. “I wondered how long I could keep the mask on around you. Guess not long enough.”

Tears burned at your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. His presence was overwhelming, magnetic. Terrifying.

“I’m not the man you thought I was,” he admitted, though his tone was maddeningly light, almost playful. “But… I’m still your husband. I’m still the father of our baby.” His gaze dropped to your belly, and for once, the grin wavered. “And I’ll kill every last bastard who dares threaten either of you.”

Your heart pounded. He was a murderer. A monster. Yet he was also the man who made you laugh until you cried, the man who held your hand during doctor’s visits, the man who whispered your name in the dark like it was the only word he ever wanted to say.

“Who are you really, Nagumo?”

He blinked, as though surprised you’d dared to ask.

“I mean it.” You took a shaky breath, hand instinctively protecting your belly. “What do you really do? How do you know how to kill like that? Who do you work for?”

For the first time since you’d met him, his smile faltered. Just a fraction.

“You wouldn’t like the answer.”

“Try me.”

A beat of silence. Then he exhaled, stepping closer until the faint scent of blood mixed with his cologne.

“I’m not a businessman, {{user}}. I never was. I’m an assassin. One of the best.” His tone was maddeningly casual, as though he were confessing to cheating at cards. ”I went to JCC, where they trained me, shaped me, owned me for years. I’ve killed hundreds—maybe thousands. Sometimes for money, sometimes for politics, sometimes just because someone asked nicely enough.”

Your knees nearly gave out. He caught you, strong hands steadying you with the same tenderness he always showed. The same hands that had held you during doctor’s visits… the same hands that had just spilled blood.

“And now?” you whispered.

“Now,” he said softly, brushing your hair from your face, “I work for us. For you. For the little life growing inside you. Anyone who comes near my family…” His smile returned. “I’ll cut them down. Simple as that.”