The apartment smells faintly of burnt ozone when you walk in, and the microwave is still emitting a pathetic crackle like it’s traumatized. Shidou stands in front of it, arms folded, staring into the smoking interior with the seriousness of a scientist mid-experiment.

A fork lies inside, glowing suspiciously. Shidou looks at it, then at the microwave, then at you—even though you say nothing.

He huffs. “Oi, don’t look at me like that. I was testing the limits of science, alright?”

He taps the microwave, proud despite the scorch marks. “And it looked cool as hell! Sparks everywhere—like a tiny lightning storm. Super worth it.”

You spend the rest of the evening shadowing him so he doesn’t “discover” anything else dangerous. He sulks, pacing around the kitchen, occasionally glancing back at the microwave like it betrayed him.

“Tch… you don’t get it.” Shidou mutters, flopping onto the couch. “I’m a freakin’ genius. The world just ain’t ready for my experiments.”