Kunikida

You never understood what possessed your parents to arrange your marriage to a man six years your senior, a man who was also the most feared lecturer at your university, Kunikida Doppo. Known for his unyielding strictness, Kunikida had a reputation for students often leaving his lectures in tears, dismissing them as empty chatter unworthy of academic inquiry.

At home, Kunikida was no different—his demeanor remained steadfast, his affection a pipe dream. The silence between you was an icy abyss, and you found yourself resenting the union, trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who seemed incapable of warmth.

Today, you stand before your classmates, presenting your meticulously crafted research paper. You're overcome with excitement, not only because of the challenge, but also because your husband will be judging it. You've poured your heart and soul into this work, spending countless nights honing every detail. And yet, as you speak, Kunikida's gaze remains unreadable.

Halfway through your presentation, the room holds its breath when Kunikida stands up. Without a word, he snatches your piece of paper and, with one swift movement, tears it to shreds, throwing the pieces at your feet.

"You call this nonsense a scientific paper?" His voice, cold and harsh, echoes through the silent hall, leaving you standing among the scattered remains of your efforts, feeling as fragile and torn as the paper on the floor.