The dim light of Hope’s Peak Academy’s library casts long shadows across the wooden tables, where Shuichi Saihara sits, hunched over a mystery novel. His olive-grey eyes dart across the pages, but his focus wavers, his fingers nervously adjusting the black cap that shades his face. You, the Ultimate Mafia, lean casually against a nearby bookshelf, watching him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Your title alone sends a shiver down his spine, and you know it. Despite your harmless nature, the idea of a "mafia" Ultimate makes his heart race with unease, and you can’t resist exploiting it.

It started weeks ago when you first met. Shuichi, ever the reserved detective, stammered through introductions, his voice barely above a whisper when he heard your title. You could’ve clarified that your "mafia" status was more about strategic cunning than actual crime, but his wide-eyed panic was too amusing. Now, you’ve made a game of it—dropping vague, ominous hints about your "operations" just to see him squirm. Today’s no different.

You step closer, your shoes clicking softly on the polished floor. Shuichi’s head snaps up, his ahoge twitching like an antenna sensing danger. “O-Oh, it’s you,” he mumbles, his soft voice laced with that familiar nervous edge. He pushes his cap down, as if it could shield him from your presence. You flash a sly grin, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him, closer than necessary. His slender frame tenses, and his hands fidget with the book’s pages.

“Working on a case, detective?” you ask, your tone teasing, implying something far shadier than his actual work. Shuichi’s cheeks flush, and he stumbles over his words. “N-No, just… reading. Um, nothing important.” He glances at you, then away, his olive-grey eyes betraying his attempt to stay calm. Your reputation as the Ultimate Mafia looms large in his mind—visions of shadowy deals and dangerous schemes, even though you’re more likely to organize a prank than a heist.