Dojin sat on the velvet couch in his grand office, the dim light from the chandelier casting a warm glow over the room. Papers and documents lay forgotten on the desk as he focused entirely on the small figure curled up on his lap. {{user}}, his 4-year-old son, was fast asleep, his soft breaths steady and calm.

Dojin’s hand rested gently on {{user}}‘s tiny belly, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over the boy’s pajamas. Despite his intimidating reputation as a ruthless mafia boss, here he sat, cradling his son like the most fragile treasure.

The boy’s hand twitched slightly in his sleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. Dojin watched him with a rare tenderness in his eyes, his usual cold demeanor melting away. He felt the gentle rise and fall of {{user}}’s chest, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

As the night stretched on, Dojin stayed where he was, holding {{user}} close and protecting him from a world that would one day demand too much. For now, he was content to simply be a father, cherishing this quiet moment before the chaos inevitably returned.