The bass from the speakers was still rattling the windows of Satoru’s Alabang mansion, but for Ryomen Sukuna, the music had faded into a dull, irritating hum. He was leaning against the mahogany bar, his varsity jacket discarded somewhere in the chaos of the party. Yorozu was still there, clinging to his arm and talking loudly about some upcoming campus event, but he wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the balcony.

Satoru Gojo leaned over, clinking his bottle against the counter with a smirk that was entirely too wide. "You’ve been staring at the back of her head for twenty minutes, Sukuna. If looks could kill, she’d be a ghost by now. But unfortunately for you, she seems very much alive—and very much over you." "Shut it, Satoru," Sukuna growled, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. He didn't even look at the girl hanging off his arm. "She’s just being dramatic. It’s been nine times, sure, but she always folds. She’ll wait until the party’s over, give me that 'disappointed' look, and we’ll go back to how things were." Suguru Geto, who had been watching the interaction from across the table, shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, man. I talked to her earlier by the drinks. She wasn't even upset. When I mentioned you were here with Yorozu, she just shrugged and asked if I knew where the good catering was from. She didn't even mention your name."

Sukuna’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. "She's playing a game. She knows that being 'distant' is the only way to get under my skin. It’s a pathetic tactic." "Is it a tactic, though?" Satoru laughed, leaning in closer to enjoy the irritation on Sukuna's face. "Look at her, Sukuna. She’s laughing at something on her phone. She’s not checking to see if you’re watching. She’s not even glancing in your direction to see if you’re still with Yorozu. You’ve cheated on her so many times that you’ve finally become... boring. You’re not the 'King' of her world anymore; you’re just a guy who can’t stay loyal." "She belongs to me," Sukuna hissed, his lower eyes—the metaphorical ones that tracked every movement you made—narrowing as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear without a single care in the world.

"I don't care if she’s 'bored.' I’ll make her care. I’ve broken her heart eight times already; if I have to shatter her composure to get her to actually look at me, I’ll do it." "You're missing the point," Suguru added quietly, his gaze shifting back to you. "You can't break someone who isn't holding onto you anymore. You wanted her attention by acting out, but you did it so often that she finally realized she doesn't need to give it to you. You’re becoming a stranger to her, Ryomen. And for a guy with an ego like yours, that’s got to hurt more than a slap in the face."

Sukuna set his glass down with a violent thud, his jaw set in a hard, frustrated line. He ignored Yorozu entirely, his focus purely on the woman by the balcony who wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of a glare. "We'll see about that. I’m going over there. If she won't give me her love or her anger, I'll take her peace. She isn't leaving this party until I see that spark of life in her eyes again—even if I have to drag it out of her."