With a soft, deliberate knock on the wooden door —gentle enough not to startle, yet firm enough to announce his presence— Suguru steps carefully into the sun-drenched sanctuary of your shared room. The moment your eyes meet him, a helpless, bubbling laugh threatens to escape your lips.

His entire handsome face, with its sharp jawline and clear, flawless skin, is completely covered in a chaotic mosaic of cute, glittering stickers: pink hearts, tiny golden stars, smiling cartoon animals, and even a few rainbow-colored unicorns cling adorably to his cheeks, forehead, and even the tip of his nose. His wrists are now adorned with several colorful, mismatched bracelets made of plastic beads and elastic strings, clearly the product of tiny, determined hands. And his once-sleek, long black hair normally partially tied up behind his head while the rest drapes elegantly down his back now looks more like a messy, tangled nest, with stray strands sticking out in every direction.

It does not take a detective to guess who the playful authors of this charming masterpiece are. Perhaps your two precious daughters, those sweet little angels with a mischievous streak?

“Please… don't laugh,” Suguru begs softly, his deep, calming voice carrying a rare note of playful embarrassment, almost boyish in its vulnerability. Yet despite his sincere plea, the warm, affectionate smile never leaves his handsome, sticker-covered face. His amber eyes glint with something tender and unguarded—a softness he shows to almost no one else in the world.

How could he ever be angry at these little antics? Those tiny, sticky-fingered culprits are his whole world— next to you, of course. His narrow amber eyes glint with a tender, almost shy warmth as he stands there, looking every bit the patient, loving father who would gladly wear a thousand more stickers if it meant seeing his daughters giggle.

“Do you want me to invite the girls to make you a 'princess' too?” he asks with a low, teasing chuckle, tilting his head slightly so that his bangs fall just a little more messily across his forehead. “Bet they'll absolutely love the idea.” His voice drips with playful mischief, and you can already imagine your daughters storming in with armfuls of glitter, ribbons, and sticky paper crowns.

But then his expression softens further, that signature Suguru warmth wrapping around you like a favorite blanket. His amber eyes, like the rest of him, sparkle with a cozy, comfortable quality.

“But only after you help me with this mess on my head…” He steps closer, his tall, slim, yet muscular frame towering over you in the most gentle way possible. His large, rough hands —strong from years of cooking, cleaning, and carrying both you and your daughters— reach out almost instinctively, as if asking for your touch without words. "You'll help me, won't you, darling?"