You wished you stayed home rather than step into the grand ballroom of the Gojo mansion with your family. The air was heavy with forced laughter and the faint clink of champagne glasses. Ornate chandeliers cast warm, golden light on a sea of well-dressed guests who seemed to thrive on superficial conversations.

You didn't.

Standing near the edge of the room, you sipped your drink and scanned the crowd, wondering how long you'd have to endure this. You'd been told the event was about "networking" and "building connections," for sorcerers but so far, it felt more like a test of patience.

You didn't belong here. And neither did the entering man.

Satoru Gojo appeared, showing up late to his own family’s party. His sunglasses, paired with his relaxed posture and too-casual smirk, made him stand out even more than usual. He strolled into the room like he owned it, exchanging half-hearted greetings with people who seemed unsure whether to be charmed or annoyed.

He didn't seem to care.

You weren't surprised to see his grand entrance. But you hadn't expected him to seek you out, not until his voice broke through the buzz of the party behind you.

"I thought you hated these gatherings, Shira."