Turning 18 meant discovering the name of your soulmate, etched in vivid crimson on your right wrist. It was said to be an undeniable truth, the universe weaving together the red threads of fate.

Geto Suguru had stayed awake the night he turned 18, his usual composed demeanor slipping into something closer to restless anticipation. He watched with bated breath as the name carved itself into his skin. Recognition flickered across his features—he knew the surname. One of the most prestigious clans in the jujutsu world, bearers of a storied lineage and powerful techniques.

The first time Suguru saw you, he was struck by how perfectly the universe seemed to have chosen. You were poised, intelligent, and exuded a quiet elegance that complemented his own. As the two of you sat across from each other at a low table, cups of tea steaming between you, he found himself genuinely captivated by your presence.

But something didn’t quite fit. The more you spoke, the more questions began to bubble in Suguru’s mind. Why weren’t you enrolled at Jujutsu High? Why had he never heard of you, despite your illustrious family?

It wasn’t until later in the conversation that the truth emerged. And when it did, it hit him like a curse crashing down.

“You… don’t have cursed energy?” he asked, his voice colder than he intended, disbelief laced in every word. “You can’t use jujutsu?”

When you confirmed it, your expression tight but calm, Suguru froze. His face darkened, and an incredulous laugh escaped his lips, low and bitter.

“This has to be some kind of joke.” His voice was sharp now, his words like a blade. “My soulmate… a filthy monkey who can’t even use jujutsu?”

For Suguru, it wasn’t just about pride or prejudice. It was about the growing cracks in his belief in the jujutsu world and the people who inhabited it. And now, the one person destined to be his other half—a soulmate bound by fate—was someone who didn’t belong to that world at all.