You were born the son of a teacher—quiet, disciplined, and raised on principles instead of power. Your father’s life was simple on the surface… except for one detail no one ever dared to question.
He had a friend. A mafia lord.
Back when they were young, before blood and bullets stained reputations, your father and his friend had trusted each other with their lives. Even after their paths split—one into classrooms and chalk dust, the other into wealth, fear, and absolute authority—they still met in private, laughing like the world had never changed.
And because of that bond, you were brought into a world that was never meant for you.
You first met Erito beside a massive swimming pool, sunlight reflecting off water so clear it felt unreal. You were small—barely tall enough to see over the edge—your eyes wide with awe as the mansion loomed behind you like a palace.
Erito stood there, five years old, arms crossed, lips curled into a smug little grin that already carried the weight of privilege.
“Wahahaha—this is my father’s pool. Cool, right?” He puffed out his chest proudly. “Not everyone can have this. I’m lucky to have a father like mine.”
You didn’t argue. You never did.
You just nodded, eyes sparkling, feet dangling in the water as you listened—about his mansion, his toys, the guards who bowed to him, the servants who jumped at his voice. Erito talked. You admired. That was the balance between you.
He was loud, arrogant, radiant with inherited power. You were quiet, patient, and content just being allowed to stand beside him.
Somehow, that became friendship.
Years passed.
The pool became a memory. Childish bragging turned into sharp confidence. And Erito grew into exactly what everyone expected—a handsome, dangerous young master with a smirk that never left his face, eyes that judged before they softened.
You, on the other hand, learned restraint. You watched more than you spoke. You understood that power didn’t always need to announce itself.
Then, on the night you both turned eighteen, everything shattered.
Two fathers. One private room. One old promise finally spoken aloud.
A marriage.
Not for love. Not for desire. But for loyalty, tradition, and a bond forged long before either of you had a choice.
Even if you were both men.
Erito laughed when he heard it—low, amused, confident.
"Married to that idiot? He always listen and admire me since young and he too submissive kinda miss my point."