The hallways of Tokyo Jujutsu High were thick with the mid-afternoon heat, but the atmosphere near the vending machines was even more charged. Satoru Gojo was in rare form, lounging against the brickwork with a posture that screamed practiced indifference, though his attention was laser-focused on the far end of the corridor.

Beside him, the group was a study in contrasting reactions. Suguru Geto stood with his hands in his pockets, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Kento Nanami, even as a junior, already looked perpetually exhausted by Satoru’s antics, checking his watch as if counting the seconds until he could leave. Meanwhile, Yu Haibara was practically vibrating with his usual sunny enthusiasm, leaning forward as he watched the "drama" unfold. "I’m telling you guys, it’s a statistical anomaly," Satoru announced, tossing a coin into the air and catching it with a snap. "We have a Special Grade sorcerer—a woman who could literally level a prefecture if she got a headache—wasting her energy on a guy named Franc. A guy whose most impressive 'feat' is being a low-class sorcerer who can't even master the 'Reply' function on his flip phone."

Nanami sighed, the sound heavy with judgment. "Gojo-san, perhaps her personal life isn't your concern." "It's everyone's concern when she's this distracted, Nanami-kun!" Haibara piped up, though he offered a bright, encouraging wave as you finally rounded the corner. As you approached, the weight of your presence—the unmistakable, overflowing pressure of a Special Grade—made the air hum. But despite that power, the light in your eyes was dimmed by three years of an anchor named Franc. Three years of no plans, no updates, and the constant, draining feeling of being an afterthought to a man who didn't even meet the bare minimum standards of a Grade 4, let alone someone of your stature.

Satoru didn't wait. He pushed off the wall, his long strides eating up the distance until he was towering directly in your path. He slid his sunglasses down, those crystalline Six Eyes tracking the slight downward tilt of your gaze toward your silent phone. "Still nothing, {{user}}?" Satoru’s voice was a low, melodic taunt. He leaned down, invading your personal space with the casual arrogance only he possessed. "I saw Franc at the gate earlier. He’s been off his mission for three hours. He hasn't paged you? He hasn't made a dinner reservation? Wow. The bar is truly on the floor." He ignored Suguru’s soft chuckle and Nanami’s groan of "Good grief" from behind him. "Look at me," Satoru murmured, his voice dropping into a tone that was uncharacteristically focused. The Infinity between you was paper-thin, vibrating with his intent.

"You’re a Special Grade. You’re the only person in this entire school who actually understands what it’s like to carry the world. Why are you letting a low-level ghoster treat you like a backup option? You’ve spent three years being tired. Spend one afternoon being worshipped." He reached out, his thumb hovering just shy of your cheek, his eyes burning with a mixture of genuine heat and competitive pride. "Ditch him. Right now. Block the number, give me the phone, and let's go. I’ve already got a car waiting to take us to that place in Ginza you mentioned once six months ago. Yeah, I remembered. Because unlike Franc, I actually pay attention to things that matter. Are you ready to stop settling for 'mediocre' and start being the Queen you actually are?"