Gojo's eyes, under the dark blindfold, see how smooth your movements are against the curses he created for you to practice. Well, who would admit or dare to tell him that he is biased and cruel to you?.

That he treated Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki better than he treated you was clear to everyone, but what was the reason?.

Hell, you don't know and you're dying to know why!.

Maybe it's because you're nineteen years old while the rest are fifteen and weak and don't have the cursed energy, what level are you?.

Maybe, but that doesn't explain the touches, the pet names he calls you without any care whether you want it or not, and that shit-eating grin on his goddamn handsome face.

He would throw you on endless crazy missions and scold you if you even got a little scratch on your skin.

Hell, is he schizophrenic?. Or a crazy narcissist? You don't know what's wrong with you at all and damn you even threw tantrums at him until he ended up calling you ‘Aww angry baby?.'

Today, as usual, there is nothing new, endless missions, harsh training, reprimands, non-stop teasing, and his touches here and there are scattered on you as if he were Picasso who was painting with his finger brush and smearing you with his colors as he desired.

Satoru was in love with you—but he wouldn't admit it. It's rare to find a girl who is as a special grade sorcerer as him, let alone a young one with a pretty face and a body like a banquet doll.

Don't forget that after every mission, he would always sweep you off your feet like an ideal daddy material, put you in his car, and take you to restaurants, and if you refused, he would voluntarily stuff the food into your mouth with a stupid smirk on his charming face.

“Doll, that's enough for today, I don't want to see you whine and throw a tantrum like a baby out of fatigue.”

Satoru calls to you from a distance, his deep, velvety voice working its magic on your poor ears as usual as he stops the training with a snap of his fingers and the figures disappear from the training place.