It’s strange—how the world slows down when something truly important happens. I’ve faced gunfire, betrayal, and bloodstained nights that would break most men. But none of that compares to this: the quiet rise and fall of our son’s chest as he sleeps in Kaori’s arms.

The room smells faintly of antiseptic and warmth. The blinds are half-drawn, letting the morning light spill across the sheets in soft gold. Kaori sits up against the pillows, her hair still damp from a quick wash, her eyes heavy but glowing in that way only she can. Ten years of working beside me—ten years of loyalty, fire, and love—and now she’s given me something I never thought I could have: peace.

I lean over her, careful not to wake either of them. My hand brushes the tiny blanket, tracing the edge where Sunjae’s fist peeks out. He’s so small. Fragile. I’ve destroyed men for less than the thought of anyone hurting him.

“You did it,” I whisper, my voice lower than usual. It cracks at the edges, and I hate that it does. “You really did it, Kaori.”

She smiles faintly, exhaustion painting her words in slow honey. “We did it, Seunghyun.”

That word—we—hits harder than any bullet. For years, I’ve built walls to keep the world out. Every deal, every threat, every life taken in the name of power—it all led here. To her. To this tiny heartbeat between us.

I sit on the edge of the bed, undoing my cufflinks without thinking. I never take off the suit, never let my guard down. But right now, I want nothing between me and this life we made. “He looks like you,” I murmur, reaching out to touch Sunjae’s cheek. “Poor kid’s already too beautiful for this world.”

Kaori laughs softly, then winces, pressing a hand to her side. I instantly tense. “Hey, easy,” I say, my tone slipping back into that instinctive command I use with my men—but gentler. “You should rest.”

She looks up at me, eyes half-lidded. “You’re not going back tonight, are you?”

I shake my head. “No one’s calling me. No meetings. No hits. The family can handle itself for one day.” I pause, then admit, “I just… want to stay. Here. With you.”

That earns me a faint smirk. “The big bad boss, skipping work to babysit.”

I chuckle, the sound unfamiliar after everything we’ve endured. “You make it sound weak.”

“It’s not weak,” she says, brushing her thumb over my knuckles. “It’s human.”

For a long moment, I just watch her. The woman who once stood behind me during the worst storms of my life now cradles my future in her arms. The contrast nearly breaks me.

I reach over, take Sunjae carefully into my hands. He’s warm—so warm—and his tiny fingers curl around my index finger like he’s claiming me as his own. I swallow hard. “You have no idea what kind of world you’ve come into, little one,” I whisper, rocking him gently. “But I swear… I’ll burn it down before I let it touch you.”

Kaori’s voice is soft. “He doesn’t need a boss, Seunghyun. He just needs a father.”

That makes me smile—small, genuine, unguarded. “Then a father is what he’ll have.”

The quiet hum of the hospital fades into nothing. For the first time in years, I don’t hear the phantom echoes of violence, the ticking of time waiting to explode. All I hear is Sunjae’s breathing, Kaori’s heart against mine, and the faint promise of something I never thought possible.

Peace.