I nod, understanding her struggle. "It's not an easy life, I know. If you want to distance yourself from it all, I won't hold it against you. Your safety and happiness are my top priorities."

She squeezes my hand tighter. "No," she says firmly. "I made my choice. I'm part of this world now, for better or worse. I just need time to adjust."

I study her face, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. "Are you sure? This life changes people. I don't want you to lose yourself."

She doesn't look away. "I'm sure. I won't run from this or pretend you're a particularly lucky businessman or something. Loving you means accepting everything, and it's not in my nature to let you take all the risk."

I press my forehead against hers. "You're strong, and I appreciate that. If you need me to take more of the burden, I can."

She nods but straightens her shoulders. "I know, but I'm going to do this."

We sit for a moment in silence as I wait to see if her stomach has settled. Finally, I stand, offering her my hand. "Let's get you something to eat. It might help settle your stomach."

She grimaces, looking unconvinced, but takes my hand and walks with me. As we near the doorway, she says, "I know you assigned me busy work."

I freeze for a second, about to protest, but I can't in good conscience, and I never want to lie to her. "The baby..."

To my surprise, she nods. "I get it. I want to be involved, but it's not really practical right now, so I appreciate you including me wherever you can." She rises on her tiptoe to kiss my cheek before sweeping into the kitchen ahead of me.

I realize I got off easy as I set about making her some toast and ginger tea.

Y/N watches me intently, and there's clearly something more on her mind. "Tell me about the first time you had to deal with the violence of this life."

I pause, memories flooding back. Setting the kettle on the stove, I turn to face her. "I was sixteen. My father had taken me and my brother Joon Suk on what he called a 'business trip.' It was supposed to be my introduction to the family operations."

Y/N frowns but doesn't interrupt.

"We went to meet with a rival family. Negotiations broke down, and suddenly, guns were drawn. I remember the chaos, the shouting, and the smell of gunpowder. When it was over, three men lay dead on the floor. My father was angry that I hadn't killed any of them, but Joon Suk was praised for his kill. He was seventeen and had been in the family business officially for a year by then."

I meet Y/N's gaze, seeing her horror and comprehension. "I was sick afterward, much like you were just now. My father wasn't pleased with my reaction. Said I needed to toughen up if I was going to survive in this world." I close my eyes, remembering the feel of his foot kicking me in the ribs as I crouched on the cement floor to heave out my guts.

"That's terrible," Y/N whispers. "You were just a kid."

I shrug, turning back to prepare her tea. "It's the life I was born into, but it's why I want to give you a choice. You weren't raised in this world like I was."

Y/N stands and walks over to me, wrapping her arms around me from behind. "Maybe not," she says, her voice muffled against my back, "But I'm choosing it now. I'm with you."

I turn in her embrace, cupping her face in my hands. I press a gentle kiss to her cheek, not wanting to initiate passion when she's still in a delicate state. As we break apart, the kettle whistles, bringing us back to the present. I pour the hot water over the ginger tea, and the warm aroma fills the kitchen.

"Here," I say after it's steeped for a bit, handing her the mug. "Drink this. It should help with the nausea."

Y/N takes a cautious sip, her face relaxing as the warm liquid soothes her throat. "Thank you."

I nod for her to return to the breakfast bar and fix her a slice of toast. She eats it slowly, a nibble at a time, and sips her tea. Her color is better by the time she's eaten all the toast. As she finishes her tea, I take the cup from her and set it in the sink.

Then I take her hand. "Come on. Let's get some rest."

She nods, allowing me to lead her back to our bedroom. As we settle into bed, her body curling against mine, I stare at the ceiling. The events of the day are on my mind, but her presence brings a measure of calm. I turn to face her, taking in the soft curves of her face in the dim light.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

I trace a finger along her cheek. "The future. Our future. Our child's future."

She catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "I've been thinking about that too. It's overwhelming sometimes."

I nod, understanding her concerns. "This life isn't an easy one. I want our child to have a better start than I did."

She nods. "I want to shield them from this world for as long as we can. They deserve a chance at innocence."

"I agree, but we can't shield them forever. They need to be prepared for the reality of our lives."

Y/N shifts closer, placing her hand on my chest. "What if we give them a normal childhood? Keep them away from the business until they're older?"

I consider her words carefully. "It's risky. If they're not prepared..."

"We'll prepare them," Y/N interrupts. "Just not right away. Let them be kids first. We can introduce them to our world gradually, on our terms."

I run my fingers through her hair, mulling over the idea. "It won't be easy. We'll have to be vigilant and always watching for threats."

She nods. "I know, but isn't it worth it to give our child a chance at a normal life, even if it's just for a few years?"

Her words stir something in me—a longing for the childhood I never had and the innocence I lost too soon. "We'll do it your way. We'll guard them from this reality for as long as we can."

Y/N smiles but sounds tentative, as if afraid to believe me. "Really?"

I press my lips against hers, savoring the softness of her skin. "Really. We'll give them the childhood I never had, but when the time comes, we'll make sure they're ready for this world."

She rests her head on my chest. "We'll face it as a family."

I wrap my arms around her. "Always."

We lie in silence for a moment before she speaks again, her voice heavy with sleep. "Kook?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I love you."

The words warm me from the inside out. I'll never hear them enough to satisfy me. "I love you too," I whisper back, kissing the top of her head and inhaling her scent. It puts me at ease in a way I've never been able to achieve without her.

As her breathing evens out, signaling she's drifted off to sleep, I think about the future we've just planned. It's a delicate balance we're trying to strike, protecting our child while preparing them for the harsh realities of our world. I feel like there's no easy way to do that without making mistakes here and there.

I think back to my own childhood and the brutal lessons I learned at my father's side. The first time I saw a man die, the first time I had to pull a trigger myself, and the death of my brother... I was barely a teenager, shoved into a world of violence and power struggles before I could truly understand the consequences.

I don't want that for my child. I want them to know laughter, to feel safe, to experience the simple joys of childhood that were denied to me, but ignorance can be dangerous in our world. We'll have to find a way to gradually introduce them to the truth of our lives, to teach them to be strong and cunning without crushing their spirit.

It's a daunting task, but as I look down at Y/N sleeping peacefully in my arms, I'm sure we'll find a way. I close my eyes, allowing myself to imagine a future where our child runs and plays without fear, where family dinners are filled with laughter instead of tense discussions about territory and power, and where our child primarily feels loved, not the burden of expectations. It's a beautiful vision I want to make a reality.

With that thought, I drift off to sleep, holding Y/N close while dreaming of a future filled with happiness and laughter.