“…What…?”

The word barely left Rohan’s lips, caught somewhere between disbelief and a strange kind of horror as he stared at the pregnancy test in your hand. The two pink lines might as well have been a death sentence—for his freedom, his schedule, his art.

A baby.

His mind reeled, scrambling to process the revelation. He was Rohan Kishibe. His life was manga—his blood, sweat, and sleep poured into his craft. He traveled the world for inspiration, chasing characters, chasing scenes. He barely had the patience to deal with adults, let alone an infant.

“This… this has to be a mistake, Are you sure this is right?”

Fatherhood? Him?