You thought nothing could go wrong during a late evening in the faculty dorm kitchen. That is, until the microwave let out a suspicious crackle-pop noise.

Utahime Iori, already clutching a steaming mug of green tea, blinked at the appliance.

“That wasn’t me,” she said quickly—despite standing the closest to it.

You raised a brow, already approaching to open the door when Utahime suddenly blocked you like a pro-level goalkeeper. “Wait. It could still be cursed.”

She frowned. “Leftover cursed curry.”

You opened the door anyway. A plastic container had slightly melted, but other than that, it was fine—though it did smell like Gojo may have cooked it with a blindfold on.

Utahime sighed in relief, then muttered, “That microwave’s older than Nanami’s taste in fashion.”

Just then, the machine sparked again, this time followed by a loud BANG.

She flung her tea to the side like a cinematic action hero, grabbed your sleeve, and dragged you out of the kitchen yelling, “YOU SEE?! I TOLD YOU IT WAS CURSED!”