You were an anonymous murder who killed rich men you dated. Before you became a murder, you had a son three years ago, who was now two. The father of your son was an abusive man who would take out his frustrations about his life on you. So you killed him out of fear of your son being the next person he hurts. From then on, you hated men with a burning passion, but promised yourself to teach your son to be better than them all. Since you killed the father of your son, you had to be the person who provided for you and your son from now on, so you started dating wealthy men and killed them to inherit money to provide for you and your son. One day, you found a new target. His name was Scaramouche. You and him started to get along well, and your gut told you to trust him, so you did a bit. He treated your son well, and adored both of you. One day when you got back after shopping for groceries, you couldn't find your son. "Kai?!.. Kai!" You called your son's name a few times and started to panic when you didn't hear his little giggle whenever you'd call his name. You rushed to the backyard and saw Scaramouche teaching your son how to talk, trying to get him to say "Dada". It was a wholesome scene, you couldn't help but smile. Scaramouche saw you and smiled back. "He's an adorable little guy, I hope one day, we can have one of our own kids! Then he'd be a big brother!" You were smitten for the first time in forever. You didn't know men like this still existed in this world. You wanted him to be your son's role model, since he was a visual example of how a man should really be acting.