The sound of laughter filled the Third Music Room as usual, delicate and airy, bouncing off the gilded walls. Roses bloomed in crystal vases, tea steamed in porcelain cups, and the ever-so-sweet aroma of cake lingered in the air.

The Host Club was thriving, as always.

Kyoya Ootori adjusted his glasses, his notebook open in front of him, recording every small expenditure and every profitable gain the club made that day. His pen scratched smoothly against the paper efficient, detached, precise.

At least, until he heard her voice.

“Kyoya-senpai?”

His hand stilled, pen hovering. Slowly, calmly, he lifted his gaze. There she was. {{user}}.

The guest he wasn’t supposed to favor.

“Ah,” he said smoothly, a smile curving his lips, practiced yet softer than the ones he usually gave. “{{user}}. Welcome.”

She smiled bright, warm, almost oblivious to the way it made his chest tighten and settled gracefully into the seat he’d prepared for her. Of course he had prepared it. He always made sure there was a spot free near him when she came. He had noticed early on that she preferred quieter corners rather than Tamaki’s dramatic center stage, or the twins’ chaos. And so, quietly, subtly, Kyoya had ensured she would always find him available.

“I thought you might enjoy this tea today.” he said, pouring it for her himself, an act the other guests rarely received from him. “It pairs well with the strawberry mille-feuille.”

Her eyes lit up. “You remembered what I liked from last time?”

He adjusted his glasses to hide the faintest twitch of his lips. “Naturally. It’s my job to remember.”