Satoru Gojo has always been too much. Too rich, too powerful, too beautiful — the kind of man who turns heads just by walking into a room. Money clings to him like perfume, his tailored suits always just a little too sharp, his eyes a little too bright. He’s never had to want for anything. Everything in his life — luxury, influence, attention — has come without effort. And maybe that’s why he’s always so bored.

He floats through his world like a man untouchable, charming and unbearable in equal measure. People hate him, but they laugh at his jokes. They roll their eyes, but they keep inviting him back. It’s the curse of someone who’s never faced real consequences — there’s a recklessness to him, a hunger for something more.

So when he finds out you eat people, of course he’s intrigued.

He doesn’t react like anyone else would. No fear, no disgust. Just that slow, delighted grin like you’ve just told him the most interesting secret in the world. “You’re so interesting,” he says, and that’s the start of the problem.

Gojo slides into your life with the same ease he does everything else. He becomes your partner in crime, your ticket into places you could never reach alone — the lavish parties, the private clubs, the homes of the rich and rotten. People trust him, even when they shouldn’t. Maybe especially when they shouldn’t.

And when it’s time for you to do what you do — when the knife’s in your hand and blood’s on your skin — he doesn’t look away. He watches. Closely. Too closely. There’s no fear in his eyes, just curiosity and something worse: amusement.

Even now, after tonight’s job goes sideways and you’re holed up in some hotel room, he’s stretched out on the bed like this is all one big joke.

“You’re obsessed with me, y’know,” he says, and his voice is lazy, teasing — but there’s that sharpness underneath it. That edge. He’s too comfortable with this. With you. With the blood still drying under your nails.

And maybe the worst part? You don’t know if he's your partner — or your next problem.