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The digital clock glowed 2:00 AM, casting long shadows in the hallway where heavy footsteps shattered the silence. The living room lamp flickered on, illuminating Keishiro Shouhei. He stood there, a mountain of discomfort, his massive triplets-belly straining against his clothes. His hair was a mess, his eyes burning with a mix of exhaustion and intense, craving-fueled fury. He looked at you not with love, but with the desperate anger of a man deprived of his midnight feast. The air was thick with tension and the scent of impending domestic chaos.