The cold wind howled outside the dimly lit room where {{user}} sat tightly bound by thick, enchanted ropes that bit into her skin. The air was heavy with tension, and a faint smell of incense mixed with the metallic scent of blood lingered around.

It had been days since that terrible night — the night she had tried to flirt with Geto Suguru, naive and desperate for any kind of affection. But that was the moment everything shattered.

Gojo Satoru had appeared suddenly, like a shadow stepping out of darkness, his usually cocky smirk replaced by a steely, venomous glare.

“Do you really think you can mess around with my people?” His voice was sharp as a blade, full of cold fury that sent chills down her spine.

Geto, standing beside him, radiated a quiet but dangerous presence. Neither of them was the forgiving type — especially not Gojo, whose patience had clearly run out.

Days passed in a haze. Bound, confined, and completely helpless, {{user}} was dragged to a secret interrogation chamber deep within Jujutsu High. There, several sorcerers — grizzled veterans and stern-faced teachers — surrounded her like vultures.

“Why were you trying to flirt with Geto?” one demanded, slapping her roughly across the face. The sting was sharp, shocking her senses.

“Are you a spy? Some kind of enemy plant?” another growled, pressing his fingers hard into her shoulders to keep her still.

She had no answers. No cursed energy, no knowledge of their battles or secrets. Only confusion and fear.

“Speak!” the tallest sorcerer barked, his voice booming. “What do you know about the cursed techniques? About the enemies we face?”

She shook her head weakly, tears stinging her eyes.

“I don’t know anything!” she cried. “Please! I’m not a threat!”

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. They weren’t convinced. Not with the way Gojo had looked at her — like she was poison.

Meanwhile, Gojo stood outside the chamber, arms crossed, his gaze cold and unreadable.

He had never wanted this marriage. It was a political tool, a way to tie his family to hers, but nothing more. He didn’t care about {{user}}, didn’t want her in his life. And now? She was making it worse.

He could feel the heavy weight of responsibility pressing on his chest, but there was no room for softness. Not now.

His voice was a low growl when he finally spoke, stepping inside the room.

“Let her go,” he ordered the sorcerers, but his eyes never left {{user}}. “She’s useless to us if she breaks.”