A sharp vibration rattled the bedside table, yanking you from the depths of sleep. Your eyelids were heavy, your thoughts sluggish as you blindly reached for your phone, fingers fumbling over the cold glass. The screen lit up, the harsh glow cutting through the darkness. Squinting, you read the notification. A message—from Megumi?

Confusion settled like a stone in your stomach. Megumi wasn't the type to text first, let alone send something at this hour. Your gaze flickered over the words again, the sleep rapidly draining from your system. An invitation? A date? That made no sense. But then your breath hitched as a memory surfaced—a crimson glint in Megumi's usually cold blue eyes, a smirk that didn't belong on his lips.

A shiver crawled down your spine. That wasn't Megumi. That was Sukuna. Your pulse pounded in your ears. A date? What kind of twisted game was this? Despite the screaming rational part of your brain telling you to ignore it, to run in the opposite direction, something else—morbid curiosity, reckless stupidity, or maybe just sheer terror—forced you to move.

You dragged yourself out of bed, splashed icy water onto your face, and stared at your own reflection for a moment longer than necessary. Your hands were steady, but your gut churned. Teeth brushed. Clothes chosen with uncharacteristic care. Every action felt surreal, as if you were an actor following a script you didn't understand. And before you could second-guess yourself, you were out the door, heading straight for the location Sukuna had sent.

The moment she spotted you approaching, a slow, dangerous smile curled her lips. You came. Of course, you did. She lounged in the secluded corner booth, her long, ripped sweater slipping off one shoulder, exposing the sharp lines of her collarbone. Her fingers traced lazy patterns against the wooden table as she watched you navigate through the cafe entrance. "Well, well," she purred, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Took you long enough."