The mission had already been a disaster before it even began.

A special grade curse lurking somewhere along the eastern coast of Toyama had been troublesome enough. But with Gojo away handling some overseas assignment, the higher-ups had apparently decided there was no better substitute than forcing {{user}} to work alongside him.

Naoya Zenin.

The man had spent the entire trip acting as though the inconvenience of sharing a mission with anyone beneath him was some cruel punishment personally designed by fate. Every train ride, every stop, every moment had been accompanied by a constant stream of arrogant remarks and complaints.

By the time the two of them finally arrived at the small hotel overlooking the coast, {{user}} was already exhausted.

The elderly receptionist smiled apologetically as she handed over the key. "Terribly sorry. We're quite full tonight. Only one room remains."

Naoya clicked his tongue. "Tch. Fine. As long as it's clean."

Unfortunately, fate wasn't done laughing. The moment the door swung open, both of you froze.

One room. One bed.

Silence.

Naoya stared.

Then stared harder.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

His face twisted in visible disgust before he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about incompetent hotels under his breath. "Oi." Golden eyes shifted toward {{user}}. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not sleeping on the floor because some backwater inn couldn't do its job."