My husband is an oceanographer.

There is a certain kind of charm, defined by a suit paired with slicked-back hair. This combination lends a man an air of maturity and steadiness, gives him the bearing of a gentleman. Yet, the man standing outside Kisame’s door, dressed just so, exuded nothing but a sleazy, greasy aura from head to toe. One glance was enough to know he was trouble.

“Yuki, let me in, just a word and I’ll leave,” the suited man called loudly through the wrought iron gate, his voice disturbing the neighbors on either side.

Bang.

Yuki pushed open the villa door and hurried out into the yard, her brow tightly furrowed as she spoke coldly to him, “I’ve told you many times, stop pestering me. I have a husband.”

“Yuki, stop lying to me. I’ve asked around, no one’s ever seen your husband. Everyone says he abandoned you and your son—what kind of man does that?” Clinging to the gate, the suited man feigned heartfelt sincerity. “I’m not like your ex. I’m a man who takes responsibility. I’d be willing to be your child’s father, to raise him as my own.”

“I’m not lying. My husband is a marine scientist, he’s out at sea for research and will be back soon,” Yuki replied, loathing etched across her face, spinning a story.

After all, she couldn’t very well admit she had dealt with her ex-husband herself. Nor could she easily reveal her bloodline limit abilities. Since arriving here, Yuki had lived cautiously, raising her child alone, guarding this hard-won peace and happiness.

Still, her explanation did nothing to deter the suited man. “I don’t believe you. Just let me in. If you don’t, I won’t leave.”

He began his shameless persistence. Yuki sighed, feeling both headache and fatigue. This was the third man to pursue her recently, all because she’d been seen out shopping for groceries. Beautiful women often have many troubles. A beautiful widow has even more, for as the saying goes, a widow’s doorstep invites much gossip.

Reluctantly, Yuki raised her arm, preparing to quietly use Ice Release to make some noise and frighten him off.

Just then, she froze, stunned, gazing at the doorway.

Smack.

The suited man suddenly felt a powerful force as someone slapped his shoulder from behind—nearly disassembling his slight frame on the spot.

“Who are you?” he snapped angrily, turning to find a tall man with a shark-like face towering over him, smiling down.

“What are you doing at my door?” Kisame asked.

“Your house? You’re…” The suited man’s heart skipped a beat, a sense of dread washing over him.

“I’m a marine biologist specializing in sharks. You can probably tell just by looking at my face.” Kisame pointed to his own features, then to Yuki in the yard. “Also, I’m that woman’s husband. If I’m not mistaken, you’re harassing my wife, hmm?”

The suited man panicked, quickly raising his hands in a forced, awkward smile. “Misunderstanding. Brother, it’s all a misunderstanding.”

But it was already too late.

With a loud bang, Kisame grabbed the suited man’s collar, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against the iron gate. “You dare lay a finger on my woman? You must have a death wish.”

With that, Kisame tossed him effortlessly across the street, sending him headfirst into a garbage bin.

Having disposed of the trash, Kisame looked toward Yuki behind the gate and smiled.

“!”

Yuki clutched her chest, her expression a mix of surprise, shyness, and emotion. Coming to her senses, she hurried over to open the gate, calling out that familiar address: “Mr. Kisame…”

“Come on, let’s talk inside,” Kisame said, glancing at the neighbors who’d gathered to watch, then at the suited man scrambling out of the garbage bin. His gaze alone seemed deadly.

He and Yuki walked side by side, Kisame naturally slipping into the role of her husband, wrapping an arm around her slender waist as they headed inside.

The suited man, terrified by Kisame’s glare, fled in a panic.

Once inside.

“What was all that about? Does this kind of harassment happen often?” Kisame withdrew his arm, asking casually.

“…Yes,” Yuki replied, a bit embarrassed.

“No surprise, you’re just too beautiful,” Kisame said bluntly.

Today, Yuki wore a pale blue jacket over a white sweater. Though she had only recently given birth, her figure had already recovered, voluptuous and graceful.

Her snow-white hair was tied in a ponytail, her light blue eyes clear as the sky—a rare beauty, indeed.

As always, the saying went: Bai grew up prettier than most women, thanks to his mother’s genes.

Hearing Kisame’s straightforward praise, and recalling how he’d wrapped his arm around her waist, Yuki blushed deeply.

Yet soon she remembered what happened when Kisame last departed. Her expression sobered, and she stepped back, bowing deeply in apology. “Mr. Kisame, about last time… I’m truly sorry, I acted impulsively and troubled you.”

When Kisame had left, she’d hugged him from behind, boldly expressing her feelings—only to end up terribly embarrassed.

These days, whenever Yuki thought of herself, a woman in her twenties, confessing to a thirteen-year-old boy, she felt mortified, wishing she could disappear.

She’d thought Kisame would never return to see her.

“That was nothing, I never gave it a second thought,” Kisame waved her concerns away. He walked to the hall mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. “I really do get mistaken for an older man. Am I starting to look old?”

Yuki laughed at that, moving to stand beside him, gazing at their reflections. “Mr. Kisame doesn’t look old at all. You’re mature and very handsome.”

In the mirror, Yuki leaned gently against Kisame, the two looking very much like a married couple.

Yuki blushed again, inexplicably.

“By the way, I’ll be staying home for a while this time,” Kisame said, turning to her. “I’ve got an assignment—working as a bodyguard for a film crew shooting in town, and I’ll even have a cameo role in the movie.”

“Really?” Yuki replied with delight, “I’ll go tidy up your room and make the bed.”

She hurried upstairs to the bedroom.

Kisame wandered through the house, picking up an apple from the dining table and taking a bite.

He heard a baby’s cry and followed the sound to the nursery.

In the cradle, Bai—just over two months old—lay quietly, neither crying nor fussing.

Kisame approached the crib, and on a whim, reached out to tease Bai’s chubby cheek with a finger, giving him a kindly smile—the sort that revealed two rows of sharp, white teeth.

Bai’s eyes widened, startled, and he suddenly began to wail.

“Waaah, waaah!”

His cries grew louder and louder, soon escalating into a full-blown howl.