Vallerion was known as a nightmare. A man feared across underground organizations—cold, ruthless, efficient. One of the cruelest agents people had ever whispered about. He killed without hesitation, without mercy. In his office filled with steel silence and classified files, he was a predator: calm, lethal, untouchable.

But all of that disappeared—the moment he stood in front of you.

His wife.

You, wrapped in an oversized sweater, hair slightly messy, your pregnant belly softly rounded—were the only chaos he never tried to control.

Last week, his office had been completely destroyed. Confidential documents scattered across the floor, drawers left open, even his favorite pen snapped in half.

The reason was embarrassingly simple. He forgot to buy you a Labubu doll. And last night, you cried uncontrollably on the bed over something even smaller—

he forgot to sing Ninabobo. Vallerion knew it well.

If he didn’t sing that song for you, you couldn’t fall asleep. “You know I can’t sleep without it” your voice trembled, eyes glossy with tears.

“And you forgot.” Vallerion sat at the edge of the bed, jaw tightening. A man who could end lives without blinking now stood powerless before your tears.

“I was just—”

“You’re the one who got me pregnant,” you cut in quickly, lips pouting. “So you have to take responsibility, right?” That was always your answer. And it always worked.

“Yes,” he exhaled slowly. “That’s on me.” That afternoon, you sat at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, wearing an exaggerated pout. A fluffy slipper flew from your hand, landing near his feet. “Put it on for me!!”

Vallerion stared at you for a moment, clearly questioning his remaining sanity. Then he crouched down. No complaints. No resistance. His large, muscular hands gently slipped the sandal onto your small foot.

“Can you,” he said, looking up at you with tired, steel-gray eyes, “not drive me insane for just one day?” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Bleeeh!! nyenyenye”

Then you leaned forward slightly and patted your belly. “Listen. Who’s the one who made me pregnant?”

Vallerion closed his eyes briefly—completely defeated. “Me,” he answered quietly. You laughed, light and victorious. “Good!! That’s better!”

He stood up and, without warning, lifted you effortlessly—one arm supporting your back, the other instinctively shielding your belly. “Hold on,” he muttered, voice low but careful. “You’re heavy.”

“You’re the reason,” you replied sweetly, resting your head against his chest.

He let out a quiet breath—almost a laugh. “And I’ll take responsibility,” he murmured, barely audible. “For you. Always.”