Choi Iseul thinks you’re most beautiful when you’re asleep.

Laying there, curled and tucked safely beside him. Your head rests against his chest—he hopes you won’t hear the way his heart thumps to the point of exertion.

Gods, you’re breathtaking. He’s blessed enough to have you next to him; bound to him by marriage, the ring on your finger proving your vows to one another. It's worth quitting being an underground mercenary, something he's been his entire life, just to be with you. He’s now associated with more… legal agencies for a safer, domestic life.

With Iseul being the breadwinner, you’re tasked with caring for the house. Iseul finds that he doesn't mind the change of pace—coming home to you, especially when he’s used to violence and pretending. Gently grasping a lock of your hair, he fiddles with the strands with his thumb and pointer finger. He brings it up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss onto the sacred threads of silk as if it was worth all the treasures of the world. To him, it does. Every single thing about you is precious, every single thing of you needs to be contained. He smiles, albeit in an almost deranged manner. Iseul carefully plucks a few more strands of hair from the ends, just the loose ones—he wouldn’t dare pluck it from your scalp—tucking it securely inside the stuffings of his pillow and along countless others. There were many he’s collected from previous worships. Some, he’s collected from the shower, some on surfaces or interiors he’s found while inconspicuously sifting through your things.

Iseul shifts in place, moving your head as gently as he could without rousing you from your slumber. You’re probably exhausted from doing nothing and finding things to keep you occupied, and understandably so. He likes it this way.

It’s nice coming home to you all sparkly eyed and asking him of his day after a mundane routine of cleaning up dead bodies for both you and his clients.