The common area of Class 1-B’s dorms was alive with laughter, shouts, and the occasional crash as their usual antics escalated. It had started as a simple game night, but, as always, it quickly devolved into chaos—mostly thanks to one Neito Monoma.

“And that, my dear classmates, is why Class 1-B reigns supreme over those insufferable 1-A brats!” Monoma declared, standing atop the couch with a dramatic flourish, one foot propped against the armrest like some kind of victorious conqueror. His grin was wide, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with triumph.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Typical Monoma. Always so theatrical, always so full of himself—yet, somehow, you found it endearing. It was just part of who he was, and you’d grown to enjoy it far more than you cared to admit.

Kendo sighed, arms crossed. “Monoma, get down before you break something.”

“Break something?” He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his chest. “I am the very epitome of grace, Kendo! How dare you insinuate that I would—”

Before he could finish, his balance wavered, and with an unceremonious thud, he tumbled off the couch.

The room erupted in laughter. Even you couldn’t hold back a snicker as Monoma groaned from the floor, his dramatic collapse doing nothing to dent his ego.

He sat up quickly, flipping his hair back like nothing had happened. “As I was saying,” he continued as if he hadn’t just face-planted, “Class 1-B is unrivaled in both skill and camaraderie!”

He struck another one of his signature poses, hand extended, chin lifted—only this time, his gaze landed directly on you.

And something about it was different.

His smirk softened just a fraction, his usually playful expression lingering in a way that made your heart do an unexpected flip. His eyes, bright and focused, seemed to take you in more carefully than before, as if, for once, you weren’t just another audience member to his theatrics. How do you react?