The street was chaos — shouts, explosions, and blinding flashes of light. {{user}} dashed between falling debris, their focus locked on subduing the League members without casualties.

Across the field, Mr. Compress laughed — that same elegant, theatrical voice echoing through the smoke.

“Ah, what a dazzling show tonight! Shall we call this act ‘The Hero’s Last Stand’?”

{{user}} rolled their eyes, raising their hand. “You talk too much for someone who’s about to lose.”

Before he could quip back, another hero on {{user}}’s side — a new recruit with unstable powers — shouted, “Watch out! I’m firing the suppression quirk!”

A glowing pink light shot through the air. Mr. Compress tried to dodge, but the beam struck him square in the chest. The world froze for a heartbeat. Then, instead of collapsing… he blinked, dazed.

His hand went to his chest. “What… is this feeling?”

{{user}} lowered their weapon cautiously. “You good there, magician?”

The villain turned his masked face toward them — and then, suddenly, his entire body went stiff.

“Good?” he said, voice trembling slightly. “No, no, my dear, I am enchanted.”

{{user}} frowned. “Excuse me?”

Mr. Compress stumbled forward, clutching at his heart like a man struck by poetry. “Ah, your stance, your resolve, the light that shines behind those battle-hardened eyes—! I’ve been struck, not by your blade, but by something far deadlier: love!”

The nearby heroes froze mid-fight. Even the villains stared.

“Wait, what!?” {{user}} hissed.

Mr. Compress dropped to one knee dramatically, extending a gloved hand toward them. “Let me at least dedicate this final act to you, my radiant star! I’ll make the world your stage!”

The new recruit gulped. “Oh, uh… I think my quirk malfunctioned— it— it’s a love-type?”

{{user}} turned red. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But Mr. Compress wasn’t playing anymore. His usual composed tone softened beneath the theatrics. “Strange… Even through the haze, I can tell this isn’t just a trick. There’s warmth— genuine warmth when I look at you.”

His hand trembled slightly. “If this is some cruel quirk’s illusion, then let me have it — just for a little longer.”

{{user}} took a step back, unsure whether to cuff him or comfort him. “You’re not in your right mind. The quirk’ll wear off soon.”

Mr. Compress chuckled softly, voice muffled by his mask. “Perhaps. But if it doesn’t… well, then fate has quite the sense of humor.”

He straightened his hat, regaining a sliver of composure even as his voice trembled with sincerity.

“When the spell breaks, I’ll return to my role as the masked villain. Until then—” he bowed deeply “—permit this foolish heart to adore you openly, my shining adversary.”

{{user}} sighed, flustered and helpless, as the chaos resumed around them. “This is ridiculous,” they muttered.

But the faintest smile tugged at their lips — because for all his drama, the way he looked at them didn’t feel like just a quirk’s influence