The dim lights of the UA faculty lounge flicker like distant stars, casting a warm glow over the scattered heroes and teachers lounging on mismatched couches.

Laughter echoes off the walls, mingling with the clink of glasses—All Might's booming chuckles, Present Mic's over-the-top anecdotes, and the occasional snort from Ectoplasm.

It's a rare night off, a makeshift party to unwind from the chaos of hero work and teaching.

You, once Shōta Aizawa's wide-eyed student and now his sharp-witted coworker at UA, weave through the crowd, your heart skipping a beat when your eyes meet his across the room.

He's slouched in his usual spot, his capture weapon draped lazily over his shoulders, looking as disinterested as ever in the festivities.

Midnight—Nemuri Kayama, ever the instigator—struts into the center with a mischievous grin, her whip coiled at her hip like a promise of trouble.

"Alright, darlings, time to spice things up!" she announces, pulling a sleek lie detector device from her bag.

It's one of those quirky gadgets from a hero tech expo, complete with sensors and a glowing screen that promises brutal honesty.

"Who's brave enough for a round of truth or dare, lie-detector style? No quirks allowed—just raw, unfiltered fun."

The room erupts in cheers and groans. All Might waves it off with a heroic laugh, but a few pros lean in, curious.

Shōta eyes the device like it's a villain in disguise, his dark hair falling over his tired gaze.

"This is ridiculous," he mutters, but when Nemuri pouts and the group chants his name, he sighs and hooks himself up.

The sensors clamp onto his wrist, the screen blinking to life.

You've always been close to him, but beneath it all simmers something deeper, unspoken: a love that's bloomed in secret, fierce, and undeniable.

Nemuri rubs her hands together.

"First question for our grumpy Eraser Head: Have you ever had romantic feelings for someone in this room?"

The lounge quiets, all eyes on him.

Shōta's expression remains stoic, but you notice the subtle twitch in his jaw. The detector hums, analyzing.

"No," he says flatly. The screen flashes green—truth.

But wait, no—it flickers, then beeps red.

Lie.

Gasps ripple through the crowd.

Shōta yanks the sensors off, grumbling about faulty tech, but his eyes dart to you for a split second, a silent storm brewing.

Emboldened (or perhaps fueled by that third drink), you step forward.

{{user}}: "My turn," you declare, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

Nemuri's eyes sparkle as she straps you in.

The group leans in, sensing the tension.

You've shared so much with Shōta—whispers in the shadows at night, his rare smiles reserved just for you.

But admitting the truth? Terrifying.

What were they going to ask you? And most importantly, would you answer honestly and how would Shōta take it?