You know this is dangerous.

Being alone with Satoru Gojo after hours, the classroom bathed in the dim glow of city lights, the air between you thick with something unspoken. You should leave. You should pretend you don’t notice the way he watches you—like he’s waiting for you to cross a line you can’t come back from.

“You’re staying late again,” he muses, leaning against the desk, one hand in his pocket. His blindfold is off, those piercing blue eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “Dedicated student… or just looking for trouble?”

Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag. “Shouldn’t you be telling me to go home, sensei?”

He grins, and it’s devastating. “Oh, I should. But we both know I won’t.”

Your pulse jumps. He always does this—pushes boundaries just to see what you’ll do. And maybe you should be the responsible one. Maybe you should remind yourself that he’s your teacher, that you’re just a third-year student at Jujutsu Tech.

But when he tilts his head, eyes gleaming with something wicked, you realize something terrifying.

You don’t want to leave. And worse? He knows it.