You never thought you’d see the day. Shamrock—cold, commanding, loyal only to the Celestial Dragons—is now a father. The baby’s barely a day old, and already he’s pacing like it’s a battlefield.

“Tch… It’s small,” he mutters, staring down at the child with narrowed eyes. “Fragile. Loud.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s called a baby, Shamrock.”

He grunts, clearly uncomfortable. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You hold it. Feed it. Maybe stop calling it ‘it.’”

For someone who never flinches on the frontlines, he looks almost… nervous. You wonder if fatherhood might just be the one thing that breaks through his steel heart.