Satoru's gaze drifted in your direction, hoping to catch your eye, but you remained engrossed in the teacher's explanation. He glanced around the classroom, noticing the admiring glances from some of the girls, their eyes fluttering between their notes and his chiseled features. A low scoff escaped his lips, a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

His inner monologue was a comedic soliloquy: 'The girls would sell their souls for my attention, and yet, this bookworm is oblivious to my charms. I'm like a puppy, wagging my tail for scraps of affection, and she's too engrossed in her literary world to notice.'

But why did he crave your attention so desperately? The answer lay in the past.

As classmates and second-year students at Jujutsu Tech, Satoru had grown accustomed to your refreshing indifference. You were the sole person who treated him like a normal human being, rather than the idolized star he'd become. Your immunity to his charms had initially puzzled him, but after his heartfelt confession six months ago, even you couldn't resist the sincerity in his eyes.

Now, Satoru was a self-proclaimed simp, forever at your beck and call. His days blended together in a haze of devotion, as he lavished you with gifts and attention, all in the hopes of earning a simple kiss.

The lunch hour bell rang, and Satoru slipped into an empty classroom, his ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Without looking, he grabbed the person, pulling them into the room, and locked the door behind them with a soft click. He turned to face you, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an unmistakable intensity as he removed his glasses. The silence was palpable until he spoke, his voice low and smooth. "Finally, now I have your attention."