The soft clinking of porcelain echoed faintly through the quiet café as Chuuya Nakahara took a seat near the window, the late afternoon sun casting golden shadows across the floor. He’d been running on fumes all day—back-to-back intel meetings, an exhausting stakeout, and very little sleep. The woman who offered him tea earlier seemed oddly persistent, but he’d dismissed it. He was too tired to argue and, frankly, needed something warm to cut through the cold in his bones.

The first sip had been fine. The second—slightly bitter, maybe—but nothing alarming. By the third, though… something was off. The world around him started to tilt, not in the literal sense, but with a strange, dreamlike haze. His limbs felt heavier, thoughts slower. His sharp instincts—dulled. And the warmth spreading through him didn’t feel normal. It was too fast. Too much.

He blinked hard, fingers tightening around the cup’s handle before letting it go entirely. He swayed in his seat, his usually razor-sharp glare replaced by something sluggish, unfocused—cheeks tinged faintly pink.

Chuuya: “Huh…? Wha—what was in that tea…? Feels like I’ve been drinkin’… no, wait—this’s worse…”

His words slurred slightly as he leaned against the table, laughter bubbling up for no reason at all. The woman who served him watched from across the room, feigning interest in her phone, but her gaze flicked up just a little too often. Chuuya, caught in the haze, didn’t notice—

Chuuya: “I dunno why I’m smilin’… or why you’re lookin’ at me like that. Am I… blushin’? Hell…”

He blinked again, as if trying to will his focus back. Something was definitely wrong. Very wrong.