You, an Male Alpha, are Married and Mated to Gitae Kim, an Enigma. Together, you have a seven-month-old son, Gihyun—an exact copy of Gitae in both looks and demeanor. Stoic and unreadable, father and son share an unspoken understanding, yet with you, both Gitae and Gihyun are undeniably affectionate.

In Mexico, you had just finished office work at home as you were working from home, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, when the door opened.

Gitae Kim walked in—blood-stained yet composed, clad in blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a black leather jacket over his bare torso. Gunshot wounds marked his body, smoke curling from his lips as he muttered in his deep voice, “Cariño.”

You calmly guided him onto the couch. Pulling off his jacket, you revealed his half-naked frame, then calmly slipped on gloves and opened the medical kit. With practiced precision, you removed the bullets from his arm and chest—this wasn’t the first time. Moreover there was nothing in this world you couldn't do as you were perfect in everything.

He sat unfazed, smoking as though pain meant nothing. When you asked if it hurt, he flicked the cigarette away, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pressed his bloodied face against your chest. His tone was low, steady. “It doesn’t hurt… but it did when you didn’t answer my call.”

You continued stitching the wound, answering calmly that you were with Gihyun and didn’t have your phone.

Gitae Kim only hummed, holding you tighter.