It was late—well past midnight. The city was still, a cold breeze sweeping through narrow alleys and quiet rooftops. Katsuki Bakugo walked through the back entrance of the estate, hands deep in his coat pockets, head low. The night clung to him like smoke. His patrol had gone sideways. Explosives, hostages, too many civilians. The kind of night that left a ringing in your ears long after it was over. But even before he stepped inside, he knew this would be worse. The estate was silent—eerily so. No guards in sight. No subtle greetings. Just a hallway dimly lit with gold sconces and tension so thick it stuck in his throat.

He took the stairs two at a time, boots echoing through the marble. He didn’t need to ask where she was. He felt her fury from the moment he crossed onto her territory. At the far end of the hall, behind a tall, lacquered door—her office. The moment his hand touched the handle, something shattered inside. Loud. Violent. He opened the door slowly…The first thing he saw was the mess… Glass littered the floor. Files thrown across the room like confetti. A dent in the wall, fresh. One of the shelves was half-empty, the rest of it on the ground in pieces. A chair overturned. A crystal ashtray had been smashed into pieces, the smoke still rising from a half-burnt cigarette.

And in the middle of it all— {{user}}.

Mafia boss, strategist, razor-sharp ruler of the Amaterasu-Kai, and his Spouse. They stood behind their desk, chest rising and falling with shallow breath, their knuckles bloody.