The sliding doors of the Gojo estate’s main hall had been thrown open to the sprawling, snow-dusted gardens, but the air inside remained thick with the stifling scent of incense and the unspoken weight of lineage. This was more than a meeting; it was a curated exhibition. Several young women from the most influential sorcerer families in Japan were gathered, seated in perfect seiza, each a potential candidate for a future union that would reshape the balance of the Jujutsu world.

Satoru Gojo, barely fifteen and already possessing an arrogance that filled the room like a physical weight, sat on a raised dais. He looked utterly disinterested, leaning back on his palms with his legs stretched out casually, his dark sunglasses sliding down his nose. Beside him sat Naoya Zenin, a year his junior but already mimicking the cold, elitist sneer of the Zenin elders. Naoya was busy adjusting his expensive silk sleeves, his eyes flicking over the row of candidates with a clinical, disparaging boredom. "Honestly, Satoru-kun," Naoya drawled, his voice carrying that sharp, condescending edge. "The elders really outdid themselves this time. Half of these girls can barely maintain a basic barrier. Is this really the best the prestigious clans have to offer? It’s a waste of our time."

Satoru didn't even look at him. He was staring straight ahead, his posture suddenly rigid. The Six Eyes were usually a curse of sensory overload, but right now, they were screaming a singular, impossible truth. Then, you stepped forward. The moment you entered the hall, the atmosphere didn't just change—it buckled. The cursed energy radiating from you wasn't just a flicker; it was a torrential downpour, a vast and bottomless ocean that seemed to swallow the light in the room. Even the elders, seasoned sorcerers who had seen decades of combat, gripped their fans with white-knuckled intensity.

Satoru’s sunglasses slipped further. For the first time in his life, he felt a pressure that made his own Limitless feel... manageable. According to the raw data flooding his mind, your cursed energy reserves weren't just impressive—they were nearly thrice his own. "Whoa," Satoru breathed, the word escaping him in a rare moment of genuine shock. He stood up slowly, his height already imposing, but his gaze was locked onto you with a predatory curiosity. "Naoya, shut your mouth. You’re missing it because you’re too busy looking at yourself." Naoya stiffened, his eyes finally landing on you. Even without the Six Eyes, the sheer, crushing density of your presence was undeniable. His smug expression faltered, replaced by a complex mixture of envy, disbelief, and a sudden, sharp spike of attraction.

A woman who possessed more power than the Six Eyes holder was an anomaly—a prize and a threat all at once. "That’s... impossible," Naoya whispered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his decorative blade. "No one has that much... her clan didn't mention this." Satoru hopped off the dais, ignoring the frantic whispers of the Gojo attendants. He walked straight toward you, stopping just outside your personal space. He lowered his glasses completely, revealing those brilliant, fractured blue eyes that were now wide with an almost manic delight. "You," Satoru said, his voice dropping into a low, private register that ignored everyone else in the room.

"You’re the one they’ve been hiding, aren't you? The elders said there was a 'special' candidate, but I thought they were just blowing smoke." He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his grin turning sharp and daring. b"Your energy... it’s absolutely ridiculous. I can feel it vibrating in my teeth. Tell me, {{user}} what clan do you belong.....? does all that power make you as bored with these old men as I am? Or are you actually going to make this meeting interesting?"