The atmosphere at the Delta Kappa house was bordering on feral. The "Back-to-School" bash was in full swing, and the air was a thick, humid fog of sweat, cheap gin, and the deafening roar of a bass-heavy remix. In the VIP corner—an area usually cordoned off by nothing but the sheer intimidation factor of its occupants—the campus heavyweights were gathered.

Satoru Gojo was perched on the back of a leather sofa, tossing back shots like water, while Ryomen Sukuna sat with a predatory stillness, scowling at anyone who dared to stand too close to his drink. But the real shock was Suguru Geto. For two straight years, the man had been the campus’s biggest enigma. The former king of the womanizers, a guy who used to rotate through the most popular girls in every sorority like it was a sport, had suddenly retired. He hadn’t been seen with a woman since his sophomore year. The rumors were wild: some said he was heartbroken, others said he’d gone monk. Tonight, Suguru walked in with his hand buried in the small of your back, and the entire room felt like it lost its oxygen.

You weren't like the girls he used to chase. You carried an effortless, high-class magnetism that made the rest of the room look like blurred background noise. Suguru didn't just walk in with you; he moved as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He steered you toward the "inner circle," his grip on your waist possessive and practiced, his thumb hooking into your belt loop with an intimacy that only comes from years of secrecy. "No fucking way," Satoru choked out, nearly spilling his drink as he jumped down from the sofa. He shoved his glasses onto his head, his blue eyes wide as they raked over you. "Suguru? Is this a hallucination? You’ve been keeping this hidden in your bedroom for two years? I thought you were just depressed, but you were actually winning?" Sukuna didn't move, but his gaze sharpened, tracking the way you stood comfortably against Suguru’s side. He let out a dark, guttural laugh that cut through the music. "So," Sukuna rasped, his voice dripping with his usual brand of malice. "That’s Suguru’s bitch. I was wondering why he stopped picking up the phone. I didn't think he had the balls to lock down a woman who actually looks like she could handle him."

Suguru’s expression shifted instantly. The warm, soft look he had for you vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp glare directed at Sukuna. He pulled you flush against his chest, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a protective, heavy embrace. "Watch the tongue, Sukuna," Suguru warned, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "I kept her a secret because I knew exactly how you'd act. She’s the only reason I haven't lost my mind in this place, and she’s definitely not someone you get to talk about." A hush fell over the surrounding frat brothers. Seeing Suguru—the man who used to be the most detached, cool-headed player—look so genuinely worked up and protective was a revelation. He looked down at you, his features softening just for a second as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, ignoring the gaping stares of everyone else. "I knew bringing you here was a mistake," he murmured into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "They're already obsessed with you. Let’s get a drink, and then I’m taking you home before Satoru tries to ask for your Instagram. You’re far too good for this crowd."