Author's note: New update as of 16/11/2022. A special celebrating chapter about Gin for my upcoming birthday. The Christmas series will resume at a later date.

Chapter 35 A Day in Gin's life

His eyes fluttered open. The darkness filled his vision. Gradually, barely distinguishable fragile light seeped into his corneas. Lying on his side, he inhaled deeply. A comforting floral scent filled his lungs. He stared at the silhouette of a peacefully sleeping woman with his arm wrapping loosely around her waist. Her naughty hair sprawled on the pillow, tickling his nostrils. He carefully escorted the troublesome strands away from his nose. His hand searched for her hand. His thumb brushed past her half-curled fingers, stroking her palm. As smooth-as-silk and soft-as-butter sensations enveloped his digit, a long sigh of content escaped his lips.

Having a child made him appreciate the tranquil moments in life more than ever. He lay still and took care not to disturb the delicate serenity.

Soon, Vermouth slowly stirred awake and murmured. "Morning."

Answering her was his arm pulling her snugly against his chest.

Amused by his child-like reaction, she chuckled softly. "You scold Katie for snoozing."

"She sleeps ten hours a night. She doesn't need the extra five minutes," he said matter-of-factly, conveniently ignoring the fact that his daughter was four years old.

"Hypocrite." Her laugh rang louder as she sank into his embrace.

-o0o-

Wearing yoga pants and fitted tanks, Vermouth joined him in the home gym with her hair tied up neatly into a ponytail. After physical therapy, she started working out with him. It had been a journey from barely being able to stand to regaining her tip-top shape.

Sitting down on the bench, he took a quick break between workout circuits and examined the woman standing upside down with her legs moving in a very controlled and precise manner. Almost like … "You did gymnastics, Vermouth?"

"I learned when I was a kid." The discipline imprinted in her bones after years of practice. Gymnastics was perfect for maintaining her peak strength and flexibility back in her acting days. A lot of roles required athleticism, not to mention her other job.

"Do you want to teach her?"

She gracefully lowered her legs to the floor and stood up. "Katie? Her schedule is a bit full at the moment."

"So?" He resumed pushing up and missed her narrowing eyes. He was lowering himself when she flopped down on his back and almost made him fall face-first on the floor. Barely able to maintain his form, he snarled. "Vermouth!"

She casually leaned back, putting more weight on him. "You didn't suggest gymnastics just so you can have a couple of extra hours to yourself, did you?"

He grunted. His sweat dotted the floor as muscles in his upper body worked extra hard to push himself up. "It's a win-win." The girl learned a new discipline, and he got a break.

Smiling, she gathered her strength and smacked his butt vigorously. The signature sound reverberated around the room, shaking him to the core.

Fortunately, before he had the chance to react, she had already slipped out of the door. All he saw were flashes of her bare heels dashing on the floor. He gritted his teeth and continued his workout. "Be glad we aren't sparring today."

They sparred once to twice a week, depending on her workload. Submission grappling. Winning via tap-out or verbal tap-out. Five bouts with three minutes each. Other types of format risked leaving noticeable bruises. Bullets would rain down on him if she went out with busted lips. The short matches also emulated real-world situations where one couldn't afford to spend too much time on a single opponent and risked being attacked.

Vermouth never resorted to hand-to-hand combat unless she was out of other options. And that woman was a walking armory which gave her plenty of choices. Thus, given his experience and instinct, he would usually win.

Grinning, he had a perfect plan to exact revenge.

-o0o-

Steam clouded the glass panel and revealed only a silhouette of two bodies intertwining in the shower. Vermouth ran her fingers through her hair and let the warm water rinse her.

Embracing her from behind, he leaned in and whispered against her ear. "Why do you have to go back to work? I thought you were on break."

"Something came up. It's only for a couple of days." She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. A smile dangled on her lips. "Then, we can get back to Christmas shopping."

He groaned. Neither scenario sat well with him. Nevertheless, from her entirely vague answer and hasty misdirection, he could pretty much guess. It must have something to do with Yukiko's new disguise the other day. His eyes narrowed ever slightly. How dedicated! Conning her friend for Michael. No wonder she was so eager. At her level of skill, she didn't need such a trick. It was more suitable for beginners.

"Come on. It's part of the fun." Sensing his wandering mind, she pulled him in. Her breasts were conveniently pressed against his chest.

The corner of his lips curled up. He enjoyed this practical side of her. No nonsense. "Hoarding?"

"Shopping. Decorating. Celebrating. Family reunion."

"Overrated. If it were up to me, there would be no holiday."

Her eyes widened. After a theatrically loud gasp, she exclaimed with mock humor. "Who hurt you?"

He rolled his eyes and refused to answer. Instead, he redirected his attention onto her body which was way more honest anyhow.

-o0o-

He opened the door to Kate's bedroom and immediately stepped on one of her many plushies. Staring at the stuffed animals at his feet, he wondered how the girl even managed to fling it this far. He swore when he tucked her in last night, the thing was on her bed. He shook his head and picked up the scattering plushies.

The thick drapes opened with a loud clattering. The gentle sunlight didn't affect the sleeping beauty in the slightest. Snot bubbles popped up from her nose, her drool soaking the expensive goose-down pillow. Her blanket bunched up at her feet, half on the bed, half on the floor. Her pajama shirt rose above her waist, revealing her bare belly. Thankfully, a plushie lay on her chest, preventing more exposure.

All the veins on his temples bulged. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly remembering the girl had the nerve to beg her mother for a nightdress.

Over my cold dead body. He silently made a resolution.

As usual, he took three deep breaths to calm down before pulling her shirt back down. It was a routine at this point. He towered over Kate and glared at the miniature him in her arms. The plushie in his image was her new favorite.

He walked back to the door and turned on his phone alarm at maximum volume. The blaring bullhorn alarm pierced through the air and jolted her awake.

"I'm up! I'm up! Daddy, turn it off!" Kate sat up straight and scurried to the bathroom to escape the agonizing sound.

He smirked and complied with her request before following suit.

-o0o-

"Morning, baby." Vermouth smiled at Kate as the girl joined her at the dining table.

"Morning, mommy," Kate said sweetly, then raised her arms toward her father, waited for him to pick her up, and put her on the high chair like usual. However, he only crossed his arms and stared down at her.

"And?" Vermouth prompted with an arched eyebrow.

"Morning, daddy." Kate's words dragged on forever; her moping face fell flat on the floor.

A triumphant smirk bloomed on his lips for a full minute, blinding Kate's sight before he picked her up and ended her misery. Kate's cheeks puffed up from annoyance as her eyes sulkily darted at her father for the whole breakfast.

-o0o-

He wasn't a gardener nor interested in gardening. Therefore, his yard was filled with low-maintenance plants like yew and tall fescue, with one exception—the rose shrub. A pain in his behind.

He stared at the lone bush surrounded by a little, white, wooden fence in the corner of the yard on his usual patrol route around the house. The usually green and bursting-with-life leaves now shriveled up from the cold. The recent sleet blackened the top of its stems despite protective methods. In every way, the bush looked pitiful.

From his own research and conversing with local florists, the state of the rose was normal, and it would recover come spring. However, there was an inkling in his mind that the rose might not survive the winter.

Baring his sharp fangs, he crouched down and whispered. "No matter. If you don't make it, I'll shred you into a million little pieces and get a new one."

The thorny canes trembled almost imperceptibly.

He stood up and resumed his patrol. That woman wouldn't care as long as he showed goodwill. And he would never let a plant ruin the mood.

-o0o-

A black BMW sedan drove the street at a casual pace. Strapped in the backseat, Kate asked, "Can mommy drive me next time?"

"Your mother is never going to drive you." He snorted. As if he ever let that woman incept his daughter's mind with her dangerous car tricks. However, little did he know he was too late.

"Why?"

"Because I say so." Couldn't the girl take him at his word for once? It must be hereditary. He blamed her mother.

"Mean daddy!" Her cheeks inflated like a balloon about to burst. Her gaze defiantly pierced through him.

He stepped on the gas, having no intention of continuing this fruitless argument. After parking the car, he wrapped the girl carefully in a down coat and walked the last few steps to preschool. He held her hand tightly and glared at anything with a Y chromosome glancing at her.

Little brats! He knew exactly what they were thinking. Vying for his daughter's attention with treats and then lured her into their dirty little paws. Suddenly, he had the urge to homeschool her.

"Morning, Katie," a voice said meekly. The boy standing in front of them was a head taller than Kate. He cowered behind his mother, clutching her hand nervously.

A profile floated in his mind depicting the boy as if the boy was a criminal.

Brat No.1 (He had a hunch that the number would grow exponentially as Katie grew up).

Name: Tyler Brown.

Alias: TyTy.

Sex: Male.

Age: 4.

Birthday: 10/01/20XX.

Description: Symmetrical facial features, brown hair, round eyes, high cheekbones.

Parents: Married. Mother's having an affair with her yoga instructor (Possible blackmail material).

Personality: Wimp.

Previous suspicious history: Bribed Katie with sweets, smiled a lot.

His glare was dicing Tyler into tiny little cubes when Kate flashed the boy a bright smile. "Hi, TyTy."

TyTy! Nickname basis now, are we? His glare intensified. A dark aura spewed out of him, sucking up the oxygen in the air and dousing everyone in immediate proximity with buckets of ice. Without saying another word, Tyler instantly scurried into the playground as if the devil was on his tail while his mother nervously bid him goodbye.

Satisfied, he smirked triumphantly. But his victory turned sour quickly when Kate yelled, "Sarah!"

Before he could react, his daughter tossed his hand away and ran to her friend.

"Morning." Sarah looked up at him briefly, then let Kate drag her inside.

He frowned with his arms crossed, watching over them.

"Kids grow up so fast, don't they?" A blond, chubby man wearing a black puffer jacket approached him, his hands rubbing together to brace against the cruel wind. Imagine a golden retriever wagging his tail: cheerful, affectionate, and always happy to see you. He was Sarah's father—Dan. For some reason, Dan seemed to enjoy his company. His less-than-charming personality didn't deter Dan one bit. Probably because their daughters were best friends. They would wind up sharing an awkward conversation more often than not. And by conversation, he meant that Dan talked, and he grunted. Another Vodka to tolerate.

"Too fast," he simply said. His gaze clung to Kate's little figure mingling with the other children.

-o0o-

The first thing Gin did when he got home was set up four tablets: one in the kitchen, one in the laundry room, one in his bedroom, and one in the living room. The screen displayed live camera feeds from Kate's preschool, which allowed him to monitor her at all times.

His lunch was leftovers from last night's dinner with a beer on the side, and his entertainment was CCTV cameras. His eyes were rolling at Kate's sneaking or trading away all the vegetables on her plate. The girl had gotten quite skilled. She even got some kid's dessert this time. If either of the troublesome duo were home, he would cook, but it was only him. Why bother?

Per usual, Kate was the belle of the ball. She got everyone at her beck and call. Flashing her charming smile with her baby blue eyes and people were instantly hypnotized.

Just like her mother. He scoffed at the thought.

She wasn't all like her mother, though. Clearing off his plate, he couldn't help but notice her naptime kickboxing. Her pillow dropped to the floor. Her blanket was sandwiched between her legs. Her bare belly blinded him for the second time. Fortunately, the teacher quickly tucked her in.

Perhaps, he should start buying her onesies again.

-o0o-

He was always early to everything. Thus, when Kate's class ended, he had already been waiting for fifteen minutes. Like always, he had to drag her away from her friends as she was having too much fun fooling around.

The moment the wheel began rolling, his gaze lingered on the rearview mirror, observing her. "Who did you play with?"

"Sarah."

"Anyone else in particular?" Any boys?

She perked up. "No. I learned a new song. I'll sing for you."

Before he could say no, the joyous melody had already flown and effectively shut his barrage of questions. People would say spying on one's daughter was over the top. But he couldn't for the life of him get a useful word out of this girl. She had inherited a hundred percent of her mother's slippery traits.

He gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

-o0o-

Chilly temperatures rescheduled their morning walk to the afternoon. The days were the shortest in the winter. When they made it to the park, the sun had already receded, and in its stead was the white hue of street lights.

Kate's shadow zoomed on the setts pathway as he struggled to hold her hand. Suddenly, she stopped and exclaimed, her hand waving at a woman pushing a stroller nearby. "Akemi!"

"Hi, sweetie. How was your walk?" Akemi said, approaching them.

"Lovely. Hi, Hikaru." Kate leaned over the stroller to get a better look, holding onto the armrest. Her eyes lit up when Hikaru placed his tiny fingers on her hand. "Hikaru's grabbing my finger!"

"Oh, yes he is." Akemi cooed.

You call that a grip. Give me a break! He scoffed. At that age, Kate was pulling his hair and making his life hell. However, it wasn't a fact he would like to advertise. Instead, he examined the bundle of joy blowing bubbles delighted by the attention, and concluded. Katie is much better. Period.

Sensing disdain in the air, Akemi looked up in confusion. But his glare immediately pierced through her, and her gaze fell to the ground. After all this time, he still struck fear in her heart.

His eyes narrowed at Hikaru's chubby fingers tapping on his daughter's hand. Before Kate could react, she was lifted in the air and into his arms.

"Daddy!"

"Your mother will be home soon."

"Oh!" She calmed down and held on to his neck. "Bye, Akemi. Bye, Hikaru."

"Bye, sweetie."

Kate waved and continued waving even though she was being carried away. Her father didn't care for prolonged goodbyes.

-o0o-

His excuse was on point.

When they got home, Vermouth was hanging her coat. "Hey, baby. Miss me?"

"Yeah!" Kate jumped off his arms and made a beeline for her mother.

Vermouth kneaded Kate's cheeks with tons of kisses and asked, "Have you been good today?"

"Yes! But daddy can do better."

"Is that so?" Vermouth chuckled, catching a glimpse of his eye-rolling. Her lips pecked his cheek, creating a loud and wet smacking sound. Her eyes twinkled at his tenfold annoyance.

He was fine with her affection, but why did it have to be over the top every time?

-o0o-

His fingers skillfully massaged a whole chicken on the kitchen counter with a mixture of butter, rosemary, pepper, and orange zest. His digits slipped under the skin and rubbed the mixture inside. After brushing the chicken with orange juice, he sprinkled salt and pepper over and inside the chicken. He tucked the wings and drumsticks neatly, then placed the chicken on the roasting pan. Then, he arranged baby carrot, thyme, celery, parsley, bay leaves, rosemary sprig, and onion around the chicken. Finally, he topped the pan off with some red wine.

Next, he placed sliced-up bell peppers, tomatoes, zucchinis, eggplants, and red onions on a new pan, then rubbed the vegetables with a marinade of aged balsamic vinegar, garlic, olive oil, lime juice, and ground black pepper. And he left both pans in the ovens to roast.

While waiting, his train of thought was disrupted by Kate laughing hysterically, rolling on the couch from her mother's tickling. He made a beeline for the living room and glanced at the wine glass on the side table. Barely touched. He grinned, picked up a random book, sat opposite the pair, and watched them play.

At first glance, Vermouth always seemed to be in a state of perpetual joy. One could never tell her likes or dislikes. Attempting to decipher her mood through her words, her expression, or her actions was fruitless most of the time. However, she had a tail which she indulged wholeheartedly. It was her drinking, or in this case, her lack of drinking. A content Vermouth barely touched her wine. In simple terms, the more she drank, the worse she was.

It had nothing to do with the types of drink. That woman could enjoy a strong cocktail and still be in a good mood. It lay in the way she consumed alcohol. Perhaps for the next chapter of his life, he could write books on living with pathological liars.

-o0o-

While the roasted chicken rested, he made a simple rolled omelet packed with carrots, mushrooms, and broccoli. He set the table and took out some leftover Japanese potato salad filled with crunchy veggies and mayo in the fridge. Next was his favorite—chilled soft tofus with chopped scallions, fresh ginger, and bonito flakes sparkling on top. Finally, he carved the chicken and plated the gravy boat.

Vermouth placed Kate in her chair and let him have the pleasure of building a small mountain of colorful vegetables on her plate and watching the bottom of her lip scrape the floor.

Afterward, his fork was lingering on a beautiful golden brown drumstick which drew Kate's undivided, drooling attention. Her joy was fleeting when he made a detour for a slice of rolled omelet. She whined. "Daddy!"

Vermouth picked up her glass to hide her amusement. Her lips barely touched the red liquid.

His eyes darted at her drink. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to Kate and smirked. "What do you say?"

Kate pouted. "Please, daddy."

"Good girl." Grinning wildly, he placed the drumstick on her plate.

"Thank you, daddy!" Kate brightened up; her fingers gripped the drumstick, which was bigger than her hand.

He frowned at the mess. The drumsticks were too advanced for a child's cutlery skill anyway. He examined the chicken breast on his plate before taking a bite. Cooked all the way through. Crispy skin. Tender meat. Flavourful. Juicy. Not bad.

He glanced at Vermouth's almost empty plate with drizzles of the black marinade left, and the corner of his lips curled up. He knew it. That woman liked marinated vegetables. It took him a couple of tries to get it right. The key was aged balsamic vinegar. That woman and her fancy palate.

"Baby, don't play with your food."

"They are yucky."

His eyes narrowed at Kate's dragging the poor vegetables around with her fork. If only her daughter had shared the genes. While that woman would send food back in a restaurant, she would eat anything he put in front of her. Come to think of it, she used to nitpick about everything he did. When did that change? Since Katie was born? No, earlier. Since they had settled down in London. That woman had changed so gradually that he didn't notice.

"I don't care. Daddy spent time cooking for you. The least you can do is finish your plate." Vermouth doused the vegetables in gravy and brought a forkful of green to Kate's lips. "Come on. I'll eat with you."

Watching Kate begrudgingly finish her food, he scoffed. The girl put ketchup on her eggs. What was he hoping for? As Kate gleefully asked for seconds of the rolled eggs and potato salad, mischief flashed in his pupils. Little did she know that both dishes were full of her nemesis—the broccolis. Tricking the girl had become his favorite pastime. Speaking of pastime …

Vermouth returned to her plate, only to discover a pile of neatly stacked chicken pieces. It took her a whole second to compose herself before her eyes dashed to him for an answer. His ear-to-ear grin was self-explanatory. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she theatrically took a bite of the chicken and tilted her head. 'Happy?'

His grin deepened as he devoured his meal.

Vermouth examined the glistening chicken wing on her fork and said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're fattening me up."

"You don't say?" He smirked victoriously.

-o0o-

He stood in Kate's bathroom, a yellow rubber duck in his hand. His head was covered in white foam. His hair was soaking wet. Wiping the soapy water off his eyes, he said, "Why? Just why?"

A minute earlier …

Kate was sitting in her bubble bath, humming a song he didn't know and playing with a raft of yellow rubber ducks when one fell out of the tub. Her short arm reached for it, to no avail. "Daddy, can you get it?"

Sure, why not? Such an innocent request. While he was crouching down to reach for the rubber duck, a tidal wave of soapy water crashed on his head. He took a deep breath and stood up. A defeated Gin stared at his daughter, who was hiding a plastic bucket behind her back. "Why? Just why?"

"It's fun!" Her eyes twinkled.

"Every single time?" Yes, it had happened before. So many times that he had lost count. He supposed he should be congratulating her on her ever-increasing creativity. She graduated from splashing water to planning out her steps and tricking him. Great!

"Sorry, daddy." If she were to tone down her cheery smile, it would be more believable.

"No, you're not." He tossed the rubber duck back and asked, "Do you douse your mother as well?"

They alternated bathing duty. It was his turn.

"No." She shook her head.

"Why?" He frowned, taken aback.

"Daddy gets mad. Mommy doesn't."

Getting off on provoking people. Who does that remind me of? Oh, wait. He thought sarcastically.

-o0o-

In the master bathroom, smooth jazz filled the air. Candles enchanted the warm fluorescent light accompanying a soothing floral fragrance. Vermouth rested her head against the bathtub. Her red manicured nails adorned the white porcelain. Her fingers drummed to the beat. Her figure disappeared beneath the white foam. In front of her, a wooden tray holding a glass of red wine and ripe strawberries tended to her every need.

As a series of squishing sounds was getting louder and heading for the bathroom, her eyes snapped open. She stared at the drenched man trudging inside, who looked as if he had battled a Leviathan and barely escaped with his life, only for his soaking-wet squishing slippers to destroy every ounce of pride he had left.

She burst out laughing uncontrollably, making the water vibrate. Her arms wrapped around her belly as the muscles contracted painfully, bringing her to tears.

"Do you have to laugh every single time?" He spat.

Wiping tears off the corners of her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and leaned back. "But it's funny every time."

"Funny? You think it's funny. Have you seen what your daughter did to me?"

"Aw, poor thing. Come here. Have a soapy hug." She raised her arms which were completely covered in foam.

He sneered, fumingly took his clothes off, and forcefully threw them in the basket.

She resumed relaxing in the tub. "And how is she always my daughter when she does something you don't like?"

"You know why! She's a mini you. I'm nowhere in there."

She chuckled and admired his sculpted body. "Katie's more your daughter than you think. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been so ticked off."

"You do realize that your daughter loves provoking me?"

"You know her type. Don't react."

"That's all you have to say." Stripped naked, he made a beeline to the tub and towered over her.

"What do you want me to do? Punish her? Talk some sense into her?" Her derisive laugh jabbed his ears. "You and I both know that it doesn't work."

The image of her relaxing in the bath while he was wound up as tight as a piano wire pushed all kinds of wrong buttons. Furiously, his hand slipped under the water between her ankles.

"What are you doing?" She couldn't help but frown. But as the water level dwindled, she arched her brow and cocked her head. "Petty."

He showed off the bathtub plug as if it was a trophy, sat down on the rim, and watched her joy crumble with a grin plastered on his face.

She stared at him for a second before picking up an especially plump strawberry with her fork and bringing it to his lips.

His teeth sunk into the soft and juicy flesh. A burst of sweetness exploded in his mouth with a tart of acidity that went exceptionally well with her glass of Pinot Noir. He downed every last drop, and the tension in his shoulders vanished. Basking in the soothing atmosphere, he had to admit Vermouth knew how to live. Finally, he said, "Wash my back."

She chuckled softly and tilted her head. Her fingers tippy-toed on his thigh, edging toward him, closer and closer. "If you want me to join you in the shower, just say so."

Before the urge became too much, he mercilessly removed her hand, stood up, and headed for the shower. "Hurry."

Her highness was still waiting for her bedtime stories.

-o0o-

Kate was in her most comfy pajamas, sitting on her bed, leaning on her father's arm, clutching her favorite plushie named Pretty, her eyes tracking the images on the tablet, her ears picking up every detail as her father was explaining all the wonders of … crime scene photos. Wait a second …

She frowned. "Under the floor? But they'd stink?"

"They were under concrete or in the crawl space."

"No one noticed? Even his family?"

He chuckled. "You'll be surprised how little people know about their family."

She looked up quizzically.

He closed the tablet and said, "That's enough for today. Did you finish memorizing?"

"Yes!" Kate reached down to the foot of her bed and picked up a whiteboard almost as big as her. The whiteboard was titled Zones of Privacy at the top. Right below were six concentric circles, each with a different name. From the outermost circle: strangers, helpers, people I know and neighbors, friends and family friends, family, me. And in each circle were the names of people in her life.

He pointed at the biggest circle and asked, "Strangers?"

"Don't talk. Don't touch. Don't take anything."

"Helpers."

"Police, firefighters, doctors, nurses, teachers. Greet, get help, hold hands."

"Friends and family friends?"

"Greet, talk, play, hold hands, and hug."

"Family?"

"Greet, talk, play, hold hands, hug, and kiss."

"Me?"

"Me is me."

"Good girl."

"But daddy. The circles are wrong."

"What?"

To his bewilderment, she erased the name Shu Shu in the family friends circle and wrote it in the family circle.

"Shuichi Akai is not family." He snarled, furiously wiping off his nemesis's name.

"But Shu Shu hugged me and kissed me."

"Your family is me, your mother, Michael. That is it." He snapped, then ground his teeth at the thought. "Unless your mother has other children she hasn't told me about."

"Shu Shu takes care of me!" She folded her arms tightly. Her cheeks puffed up like a balloon that was on the verge of bursting.

"Akemi takes care of you. Your teachers take care of you. Michael's lackeys take care of you. They aren't family." He stared her down, actively stamping down her argument with his gaze.

"But—"

"He is not family!"

Instead of giving up, she held the whiteboard tightly in her arms and turned away from his grasp.

His head rolled back on the headboard with his eyes shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose. A glimpse of his daughter curling up like an angry hedgehog glinted in his eyes. He sighed sharply. "Fine. How about this?" He wrestled the whiteboard out of her arms and wrote Shuichi Akai's name on the line between the family circle and the family friends circle. "He's a close family friend."

"Okay." She brightened up and nodded. "Shu Shu is special."

The veins in his forehead twitched as he took a deep breath. His lungs were inflated to their full capacity, and his teeth physically ground together to stop his insults. He grabbed a colorfully printed paper on the nightstand and said, "Alright. Today, you're learning about good touch and bad touch. Very simple. Green is good. Yellow is maybe. Red is bad."

She crawled back next to her father and stared at a simple diagram of a girl with her body parts in different colors. Only the hands and arms were green, while the rest of the body was either yellow or red. She asked, "Touching red is bad?"

"Yes."

Her eyes transfixed on her father, transforming, and finally glowered, her tiny hands flapping his arm. "Bad daddy!"

"What did I do?" He frowned. His brows could crush a passing fly as his hands secured her wrists. "If you're talking about earlier, I was bathing you."

"No! I saw you touch mommy's—"

He felt his heart drop out of his ribcage. A shockwave pierced his skull. In a flash, his hand covered her mouth. He slumped, his eyes squeezing shut, his breathing ragged. Finally, before removing his hand, he said, "Your mother and I are married. It's different."

She often caught glimpses of her parents' private moments without understanding what they meant. And they weren't exactly careful. "Shu is married. He doesn't do that."

"Ha! Don't make me laugh." His eyes were glowing with contempt. "Have you seen Hikaru?"

"Yes?"

"Shuichi Akai's no better than me."

"I don't get it."

"You will. In about twelve years." He grinned, then adopted a serious look. "What exactly did you see?"

Her face twisted in disgust. "You touching mom's chest."

"That's all you saw?"

"There's more?" Her widening eyes caught him off guard.

"No!" He exclaimed. After a brief startle from his own reaction, he quickly lowered his voice. "That was it." He leaned back against the pillow and signaled her to follow suit. "When was this?"

She complied, lying next to him, holding her plushie. "I was napping the other day."

His lips tightened into a thin line. "This never happened. You never saw anything. Do you hear me?"

She nodded, but her gaze was steady and determined.

Sensing her distrust, he said, "For the record, I didn't do anything your mother didn't like."

Her perplexed gaze drifted upward, boring into his eyes.

"Otherwise, I'd be dead by now." He snorted and pointed at the diagram. "Usual rules applied. Learn it by tomorrow night, or you won't get your stories. Got it?"

She nodded as he tucked her in. "Daddy, hands are green. But what if someone squeezes or bites my hand?"

"If you're uncomfortable, then it's bad."

But as he was about to turn off the night light, she interrupted with her arms outstretched at him. "Daddy, kisses."

"And I told you to go to your mother."

"But family kisses." She pouted.

"I said that family might kiss. Not must." When the room was plunged into darkness, he left … for a second. The door suddenly flung open. Standing in the doorway, he said, "For your information, I do kiss your mother."

"Ew!" She screeched and buried her head under her pillow as she tried to erase the traumatizing images swirling in her mind. "Daddy, why!?"

Grinning wolfishly, he left.

-o0o-

When his heavy steps drew near, Vermouth left a bookmark inside the pages and placed the book down on the nightstand. "How was the extra long bedtime story?"

"Your daughter insists that Shuichi Akai is family." He sank into the mattress like a dehydrated starfish that had just been released back into the ocean.

"Ah. Make sense. He's good with her."

"And you don't have a problem with that. You hate him as much as I do." He glanced at the book spine. His Russian was a little rusty. Still, he recognized the book anywhere. One of her good mood books. War and Peace Volume 2 by Leo Tolstoy. No, Lev Tolstoy, as she insisted. That woman probably could recite them from memory by now. However, they were also the books she wouldn't be caught dead reading in public. Having too much fun playing up the shallow Hollywood actress stereotype. If he had to guess.

"Not as much as you do." She looked deep in thought and let out a surprised gasp. "I don't think that is humanly possible."

He rolled his eyes at the exaggerated mockery. "I refuse to live in a world where Shuichi Akai is family."

She said with far too much joy, "Oh, I know. You could become an astronaut. And hear me out? Colonizing Mars."

"Funny." He dropped his head on her lap, easing into her fingers as they massaged his scalp. "You have to do something about those brats."

Her sigh softly brushed against his face. "What did they do this time?"

"That brat—Tyler kept smiling at Katie for no reason."

A laugh rumbled in her throat. "Pray tell, how is smiling a concern? Next, you'll tell me he was breathing too loud?"

"He's a scheming, good-for-nothing little shit."

"How can you be so sure? He can be a perfectly nice boy."

"I was a boy like him. Once. They breathe, and I know exactly what they're thinking."

She had to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness. "Please, not everyone is like you."

He scoffed. "In theory, I haven't met one."

"You worry too much. She'll be fine."

He doubtfully arched an eyebrow at her.

Her hand gently stroked his chin. "Katie's our daughter. She is the predator. It's the other parents who should be worried."

He paused, contemplating her words. "Good point."

"Excellent point." Her hands kneaded his face like a chef would pastry dough, much to his grunts.

-o0o-

Darkness filled the room with fragile light trickling through the thick drapes. Lying on his side, he loosely spooned Vermouth with one knee resting comfortably between her thighs. "Read to Katie."

She smiled faintly. "My books? Sure, when she can understand Russian. And French. I'm not reading her horrid English translations."

"Be careful. Your true color is showing." He leaned in and whispered with a smirk.

A chuckle escaped her lips, and a light tap on his hand wrapped around her waist. "Good night, Gin."

How sweet! Ha! But no, it was code for bothering her at his own risk, and last he did, the smell of a scorching bullet lodging inside a featherbed forever seared his mind.

Nasty bitch. The thought plastered a grin on his face.

That woman was merely drawing lines in the sand under a facade of civility, and if someone happened to cross them … There were at least four firearms within her arm's reach which didn't include her other lethal knick-knacks to curb the impertinent.

As her breathing gradually evened out, his mind started to wander. It had been about four and a half years since he moved to London.

Foolish Calvados. Vermouth was an extraordinary practical woman. A practical woman needed a practical solution. To her, a mutually beneficial agreement would be more trustworthy than something as vague as feeling.

For four and a half years, he had been slowly boiling this vibrant, deadly poisonous frog. He seeped into every corner of her life. He became a necessity; as time progressed, irreplaceable.

The woman in his arm shifted, her hand instinctively searching. He smirked, pulling up the blanket on her waist, wrapping her snugly. The now cozy cocoon quickly drifted back to sleep.

He knew for certain that if the water became scalding, the frog would jump out of the pot and mercilessly murder him. He had absolutely no doubt whatsoever. With a smile on his lips, he nodded off.

-o0o-

Interview a family of psychopaths #1.

Guests of the day: The Vineyards.

Interviewer: Do Katie watch kid movies?

Vermouth: She's been getting into a lot of Studio Ghibli movies lately. Gin tolerates them better than Pixar's or Disney's.

Interviewer: Why is that?

Gin: Three words. Let. It. Go.

Kate: I love that song!

Gin gritted teeth: Don't I know it.

Vermouth struggled to hold back laughter amid Gin's glare.

Interviewer: What's Katie's favorite movie?

Kate: Spirited Away! It has lots of vomit and mud.

Interviewer: … sure. Thank you for your time. Have a lovely day.

-o0o-

A/N: A funny tidbit. In my country (Vietnam), we always referred to Leo Tolstoy as Lev Tolstoy. So when I was doing research, I was like. 'Wait, who is Leo?' I was in a tailspin for a little bit.

This chapter reveals a very interesting detail about Katie. Did you catch it?

-o0o-