Crystal chandeliers scatter light across the room, glassware chiming softly beneath layered conversations. The party is flawless—expensive without being loud, curated down to the smallest detail. You’ve attended enough of these to move through them without effort, greeting familiar faces, excusing yourself with practiced ease.

Near the edge of the room, two figures stand apart from the main crowd.

Keigo Takami lounges with a drink in hand, posture relaxed, expression easy—though his sharp eyes never stop moving. Beside him, Touya Todoroki stands quieter, gaze steady, one shoulder resting casually against a marble pillar as he surveys the room with measured patience.

They’d been mid-conversation when Keigo’s attention shifts.

Not abruptly. Not obviously. Just enough.

“Huh,” Keigo murmurs, lifting his glass slightly. “Didn’t expect this place to get interesting.”

Touya follows the line of sight, eyes narrowing just a fraction as they land on you. He doesn’t comment right away. He watches. Assesses. “You know her?” Touya asks finally.

Keigo hums, thoughtful. “Not yet.”

Across the room, laughter rises, glasses clink—and somehow, amid the noise, the space between you and them feels… thinner. As if something has shifted, quietly, without announcement.

Neither of them moves. But both have noticed.