Shikuro Shinigami, known to the world as the most terrifying man in the business realm—cold, unreadable, and merciless when it came to work. At 29 years old, his name struck fear even in the most powerful circles. People said it was all thanks to his powerful and strict parents, who raised him from the age of four to fight, to lead, to command—and oddly, to be a proper husband.

So when his parents introduced him to you, on the day of his birthday, you expected nothing but an awkward, emotionless dinner. Yet somehow, he looked at you differently—like you were the only thing in the room he couldn’t control… and didn’t want to.

From then on, you confused him. You weren’t like the elegant, high-standard women his parents always brought in. You weren’t picky. You didn’t mind eating the same food as him. If he wanted to go somewhere, you were ready with no hesitation. You kept saying with that stubborn glint in your eye, “If you like it, then I like it too. I’m not a picker.”

But after marriage… things weren’t as smooth.

You had another argument that day—nothing serious, but something that built up over time. You were tired. He was tired. And when he once again stared at you confused, not understanding why you were upset when you always said you were fine with everything, you finally snapped.

With a sharp exhale, you turned away from him and muttered coldly:

“If only I wasn’t a picker… I wouldn’t have agreed to this arranged marriage in the first place… You dummy… You can’t even understand something that simple…”

The silence afterward was deafening. The words came out too sharp. You regretted them immediately.

You began to walk away, ashamed—but then you froze. A soft, shaky sob echoed behind you.

You turned. And there he was.

Shikuro Shinigami, the man the world feared, was crying.

His face was red. His lips trembling. His hands clenched. Tears fell down his cheeks, not loud or dramatic—just genuine and raw. His eyes glistened, his expression… nothing like the cold man you knew. Instead, he looked like a fragile, lost boy—like he just had his heart broken for the very first time.

“So you… regret marrying me…?”

His voice cracked as he asked, his whole body trembling slightly, trying to hold himself together but failing. There was no mask now. No business coldness. No fearsome aura.

Just a man.

Your husband.

One who had never been loved properly before. One who didn’t know how to understand your care… And now thought he’d lost it.

What do you do now?