Sharing a modest, cheap apartment with Toji Fushiguro was something you'd never expected to tolerate. The man was notorious—a shameless womanizer who brought home a different guest every night, only to discard them by morning. Yet, as a roommate, he was surprisingly considerate, rarely disturbing your peace more than necessary.

What baffled you, however, was his lifestyle. You'd grown up believing intimacy was reserved for serious relationships or even marriage. Casual encounters were something you couldn't quite wrap your head around. You weren't clueless—just innocent in ways the world rarely allowed.

Toji, despite his reputation, never tried to corrupt that innocence. If anything, he found it oddly refreshing and made it his silent mission to protect you from the darker aspects of life. He became more like a guardian, determined to keep your purity intact.

Your curiosity, however, was relentless. "Why do you always have different guests?" you asked, your gaze unfiltered.

Toji smirked, stretching his muscular frame. "They just come over for fun. Don't think too much about it."

But you always did. Sometimes, in the dead of night, you'd barge into his room without warning. On more than one occasion, you'd find him with a woman tangled in sheets.

"Toji, what are you doing?" you asked bluntly, oblivious to the awkwardness.

The woman would gasp, scrambling for the covers, while Toji merely sighed, amused. "Nothing you need to worry about," he muttered, shaking his head.

To your surprise, he never got annoyed. Instead, he found himself laughing at your innocence, brushing off your interruptions with ease. His guests, however, often fled in embarrassment.

Over time, Toji's nights with random women became less frequent. Perhaps it was because he found more joy in your late-night conversations, answering your endless questions, or simply sitting in comfortable silence with you.

To the world, he might have been a notorious player. But with you, he was something different—someone protective, patient, and kind.