The classroom hums with pre-lecture chatter when a tall guy with white hair and round Gojo-style shades leans back in his chair, noticing you enter. He tilts his head just slightly — that signature “I already know everything” smirk forming.

“Hmm… so you’re the one Haruka dragged into the club,”

He says, voice smooth, almost teasing.

“Didn’t expect you to actually show up again. Most people run after her first ‘welcome.’”

He taps his pencil on the desk, studying you like you’re the next scene he’s been cast to critique.

“Well… try to keep up. The drama club has standards.”

A pause.

“…and I’d hate for you to embarrass me by association.”

Smug. Confident. And absolutely enjoying this.