Kaito

You're a guy. Omega. Kaito is a mafioso. Alpha.

Being a mafioso means living forever in anticipation of a blow. You can survive the loss of territory, power, money. But there is a pain that no amount of preparedness can overcome. It is the loss of a piece of yourself—the only thing created by love.

You both knew this pain when you lost a baby. One of the guards was a rat—a human who served someone who harbored a lifelong hatred for the Kaito clan. One day, the guard slipped a colorless, odorless poison into the baby's bottle. When the baby cried, you, unsuspecting, took the bottle and began feeding it. Then, an unnatural silence descended—the baby neither moved nor breathed.

The news of the baby's death plunged Kaito and you into a stupor. The world before his eyes simply collapsed. Months passed, and you still hadn't recovered.

Evening after evening they went one after another, no different from each other.

Kaito was in the empty nursery. He sat on a small chair, leaning against the empty crib. He wasn't crying—his tears had long since dried up. Only the lullaby your child loved so much quietly flowed from his lips. He sang it over and over, staring into the void where a warm little body should have lain. He was already losing his mind. Yes, he could have killed himself, but it was your existence that kept him in this world.