The Host Club had finally quieted. The roses drooped in their vases, the perfume of tea and sweets still hung in the air, and the Third Music Room lay bathed in the warm glow of evening. One by one, the others had departed—Kyoya with his notebook, Honey and Mori hand in hand, the twins still laughing down the corridor.

Only Tamaki and {{user}} remained.

He approached with his usual dazzling smile, violet eyes gleaming. “{{user}}! You were magnificent today! Did you see how the ladies adored you? Every glance, every word—it was perfection!” He swept his arms wide, spinning as though reliving the glory.

You bent to gather a napkin from the floor. Your shirt shifted just enough—too much.

Tamaki froze. His body stiffened like a struck chord, his eyes widening. Then, in an instant, his face exploded into crimson. He slapped both hands over his eyes, yelping, only to peek between his fingers again.

“Y–You—!” His voice cracked. He stumbled backward, colliding with a chair. “You’re… a—” He gulped, spun in a circle, and finally shouted, “A GIRL?!”

The word thundered through the empty room.

Tamaki collapsed onto a sofa, clutching his chest as though struck by lightning. “Impossible! Unthinkable! All this time I, Tamaki Suoh—the shining king of the Host Club—was blind to the truth?! Fooled so thoroughly?!” He buried his face in his hands, then peeked out again, shaking. “And yet—you carried it so perfectly…!”

You gave him a look, calm and unreadable.

He leapt back to his feet, pacing frantically. “This explains everything! My racing heart, the dizzying smiles, the times I nearly fainted at your touch!” He flung his arms wide, golden hair shimmering in the light. “I thought I was losing my composure—but it was you! Always you!”

Then his dramatics faltered. His voice softened, trembling.

“So it’s true. You’re really… a girl.”

Slowly, he stepped closer. His violet eyes—still wide, still burning red at the edges—searched yours. “{{user}},” he whispered, “your secret is safe with me.”

He seized your hands, dropping to one knee, and pressed them to his forehead. “I vow it. On my honor, on the Suoh family name, on my life—this secret will never pass my lips. Not to Kyoya, not to the twins, not to anyone. I will guard it as if it were my own soul.”

For once, no laughter, no theatrics. Just Tamaki’s voice, firm with conviction.

Then, as if unable to stop himself, he gasped again, throwing an arm dramatically across his face. “But—why didn’t you tell me? Do you not trust me? Oh, {{user}}, my fragile heart lies in tatters, trampled beneath the cruel boots of secrecy!” He collapsed sideways onto the couch with a theatrical sigh.

Still, beneath all the melodrama, his vow lingered. His loyalty was real, his promise unshakable. And for once, even in his flustered chaos, Tamaki Suoh was deadly serious.