He shouldn’t. He absolutely shouldn’t.

Every rule in the JCC said so. Every instinct carved into Uzuki Kei by years of training and survival screamed the same: never trust the Poison Department.

But then there was you—{{user}}.

And Uzuki had never been good at ignoring you.

The chocolate glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights of the training hall, small and harmless in your palm. To anyone else, it was a weapon disguised as kindness. To Uzuki, it was something more dangerous—because it came from you.

“Here,” you said softly, holding it out like a simple gesture of goodwill. Your smile was shy, the kind of smile that made people lower their guard without realizing it. The very reason you’d earned your nickname in JCC—the sweetheart of the Poison Department. Deadly, brilliant, and far too kind-hearted for the world you’d chosen.

Uzuki stared at the piece of chocolate for longer than he should have. He knew exactly what it was. He could practically feel the venom coiled inside, masked so carefully beneath the sweetness. A test, no doubt, to see if he’d flinch, if he’d question you.

He didn’t.

Uzuki took it between his fingers, his expression calm, though his pulse quickened beneath his skin. He lifted it toward his lips, eyes locking on yours. For a heartbeat, the world shrank to just that gaze—the faint hope shining in your expression, the way your hands lingered a second too long as if you wanted him to accept more than just the chocolate.

Then he ate it. Slowly. Deliberately.

The taste bloomed over his tongue—dark and rich, bittersweet at the edges. Beneath it lingered the faint burn of poison, so subtle it almost vanished into the sweetness. He recognized your touch instantly. You’d been refining your craft again, weaving toxins through sugar until they became indistinguishable. Beautiful. Terrifying.

And somehow, he found himself smiling.

“You’ve improved,” Uzuki murmured, his voice even but softer than usual. His lips quirked in the faintest curve, the closest he ever came to teasing. “Most wouldn’t notice it until it was far too late.”

You lit up at the words, pride flickering across your face before you quickly tried to hide it. Uzuki caught it anyway. He always did.

It wasn’t the chocolate that disarmed him. It wasn’t even the poison, though he could already feel it thrumming faintly in his blood. No—what unraveled Uzuki was the thought that you’d made it for him. That somewhere between your careful measurements and test batches, you’d thought of him enough to offer him the first taste.

Everyone else in JCC kept their distance from you. Not because you were cruel—you weren’t. You were warm, helpful, eager to share knowledge when asked. But because your sweetness came laced with the risk of death. Nobody wanted to gamble with a smile that could kill.

Nobody but Uzuki.

He watched you fidget with your sleeve, nervous despite the fact that he’d already swallowed the chocolate. He should’ve scolded you, should’ve warned you not to hand out poison so freely. Instead, he stepped just a fraction closer, close enough for you to notice the faint warmth behind his otherwise impassive eyes.

“You’ll need to make the antidote, too,” he said finally, his tone measured but carrying a weight he couldn’t quite mask. Then, quieter, “I’d rather not test how long I can last without it.”

Your eyes widened, startled, and for a moment he thought you’d argue. But then your lips curved into a small smile, one that reached your eyes.

It was dangerous, this thing blooming between you. Uzuki knew it. You knew it. And yet, standing there with the taste of your chocolate lingering on his tongue and the faint sting of poison racing through his veins, he found he didn’t care.

Because for the first time in a long while, poison hadn’t tasted like death.

It had tasted like you.

“Next time,” Uzuki added, the faintest trace of humor threading into his low voice, “bring me two. One with poison, one without. Let’s see if I can tell the difference.”