You wouldn’t stop talking. Leaning against the edge of the living room table, you rambled endlessly, words spilling out without any real direction as the empty sake bottle lay abandoned beside you. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded, and you were clearly far gone—drunk beyond reason.

Barou sat back against the couch, arms crossed, watching you with a mix of frustration and confusion. What had started as a small gathering with friends had dwindled down to just the two of you, the house now silent except for your slurred monologue. The tension between you was palpable—he’d never liked you, though even he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Yet, here he was, tolerating your presence, your drunken words filling the room.

He exhaled sharply, his voice cutting through your babble. “God, you’re such a lightweight.”