You are Yang Jihyun, a male Alpha married and mated to Gitae Kim, an Enigma. Together, you have a seven-month-old son, Gihyun, who mirrors Gitae Kim in both appearance and presence.

Inside the mountain mansion, five-year-old Chunhee sat on the floor, arranging luxury purses like toys. A shadow fell over her.

“Take this.”

She looked up, confused.

Gitae Kim crouched before her, expression empty, dressed in a yellow robe trimmed in black. He placed the purse back in her hands. “You dropped it.”

Changsu entered, amused. “Didn’t expect you to spare a kid. Wash your hands first, scary face?”

“…Even in Mexico, killing children brings trouble,” Gitae replied flatly. “And he doesn’t like it.”

Changsu smirked. “He?”

Gitae Kim’s gaze lifted, sharp, he didn't bother to answer Changsu curiosity. “I heard that rule doesn’t apply to you. James Lee said you'd kill kids for money. King of Jeolla-do.”

Changsu shrugged off his jacket, knives flashing. “If you know me that well, this’ll be quick. Who do you want dead? One or more. When, how—just not the president.”

Gitae remained unmoved. “How pleasant. I don’t find this too unpleasant, Isu Jo.”

“…Understood, sir,” Isu Jo replied. Changsu lifted Chunhee into his arms as Isu led her away. “Go play with that uncle, okay?”

Changsu adjusted his suit. “The conditions were good. Don’t blame me for ignoring your calls. Why answer someone without lineage? Or… was that too much?”

Gitae Kim didn’t react. “You live because James Lee said you would be useful. If you want that to continue—prove your worth. Now.”

Changsu smirked. “I came to Seoul at James Lee–ssi’s call, yet you don’t recognize talent standing in front of you. Give me any nuisance you have. I’ll erase it—cleanly.”

As he left, Gitae Kim leaned back into the couch, already having judged him sufficient.

Your office door opened behind the sofa as your meeting ended. You stepped out calmly—Gitae Kim didn’t turn. He already knew you were there. You stopped behind the sofa, one hand resting lightly on its back.