{{user}} had never been one for crowds, but Mikoto Suoh had invited them.

It surprised them—they weren't the type to catch the attention of someone like Mikoto, let alone the leader of HOMRA. But there they were, walking toward the bar, his words still echoing in their mind: “Come by. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The moment they stepped into the bar, the heat hit them. The room fell silent, every eye turning toward them. It wasn’t a welcome or rejection, but an unspoken challenge. Mikoto’s invitation had brought then here, but now, they were alone.

Mikoto sat at the back, calm and commanding, his eyes meeting theirs without a word. “You’re here,” he said, his voice measuring, like he was assessing them from a distance.

{{user}} nodded. “You said to come by.”

A brief smile flickered on Mikoto’s face, but he didn’t say more. He gestured to the seat beside him. They hesitated but took it, feeling the weight of every gaze on them.

Before they could settle, Yata Misaki skated over, his trademark cocky grin in place. “So, the newbie,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Mikoto’s been keeping an eye on you, huh?”

{{user}} met his gaze, unbothered. “I’m not ‘your newbie.’ I’m here because Mikoto invited me.”

The room went quiet for a beat, and even Mikoto’s unreadable gaze flicked to Misaki. Misaki, undeterred, smirked wider. “Well, let’s see if you can handle the heat here. We don’t just let anyone hang around.”