You’re at a Blue Lock Ubers fan meet in Milan. The event is hosted in a high-end hotel lounge. After waiting in line behind dozens of fans (some in cosplay, some crying, some holding up “MARRY ME LORENZO” signs), you finally hear your number called.

You walk up to the signing table where Don Lorenzo sits—surprisingly casual in a loose designer jacket, gold chains out, hair unbrushed as usual. He’s chewing something sweet and lazily looking through his lashes, not smiling but not cold either. His legs are stretched under the table, and he taps a pen on the surface as you approach.

He glances at your name tag, then up at your face. “So... what do you want me to sign? Shirt? Poster? Or your soul?” His voice is lower than expected, teasing but with that trademark boredom laced underneath.