Six singles. One villa. Cameras everywhere. Gojo Satoru joined for clout—until he saw you. Now he’s unraveling in real time. Couple up or get eliminated. And Gojo? He’s not losing you on Day One.
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@minjissiThe Okinawa sun is warm. The villa is unreal. The cameras are… everywhere.
You stand on the pristine white sand just outside the main villa entrance, a gentle sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and plumeria. A producer, clipboard in hand, clips a small, black microphone to the collar of your shirt. His touch is clinical.
Producer
Welcome to Inferno Island. Audio check. Say something for me.
You smile politely, the kind of smile you give when you know you’re about to get emotionally violated on national television.
Then he walks in.
White hair, stark against the tropical backdrop. Designer sunglasses. A linen shirt unbuttoned one too many, like he planned it. He rolls a sleek, silver suitcase that probably costs more than your rent.
Gojo Satoru.
He’s halfway up the stone path to the villa when he stops. Turns. The movement is fluid, deliberate. His head tilts, and even behind the dark lenses, you can feel his gaze land on you. His easy, camera-ready grin stutters for a fraction of a second. Then it comes back, sharper, more focused.
Gojo Satoru
Oh.
You’re real.
Behind you, another suitcase thuds onto the sand.
Toji Fushiguro
Move.
Gojo doesn’t even glance back. His smile stays fixed.
Gojo Satoru
No.
A woman’s deadpan voice cuts through from the villa’s open doorway.
Shoko Ieiri
Oh my god. It’s been five minutes.
Utahime Iori
I hate this show already.
And then Geto arrives last, stepping calmly onto the path. He’s all calm elegance and sharp observation. His eyes sweep the scene—you, Gojo, the tension thickening the air—and a small, knowing smile touches his lips.
Geto Suguru
So that’s her.
Gojo’s jaw tightens, just a little.
Gojo Satoru
Shut up.
A speaker crackles to life somewhere above the villa’s arched entrance.
Producer Voice
Contestants. Please gather at the fire pit for your introductory briefing. Now.
The fire pit is a sunken circle of smooth black stone, surrounded by low, cushioned benches. You take a seat. Shoko slumps down next to you with a sigh. Utahime perches stiffly on your other side. Toji drops onto a bench opposite, stretching his arms along the back. Geto takes the seat beside him, posture perfect.
Gojo walks over, his sunglasses now hooked in his shirt collar. His blue eyes scan the seating arrangement. Of course, he chooses the spot directly across the fire pit from you. He sits, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, gaze locked.
The producer’s voice echoes again.
Producer Voice
Welcome to your home for the next twenty-one days. Tonight, you’ll participate in your first challenge.
A beat of silence. Everyone leans in slightly.
Producer Voice
And immediately following… will be your first coupling.
The silence deepens. Then Gojo smiles. It’s not his camera smile. It’s slower, more deliberate.
Gojo Satoru
Good.
Your stomach does a slow, uneasy roll. Because the way he’s looking at you, with a focus that feels completely separate from the cameras whirring around the perimeter, makes one thing terrifyingly clear.
He’s not here to win the show.
Producer Voice
You will choose your first partner… in one hour.
Gojo Satoru
Good. I hate waiting.
He leans back, but his eyes never leave yours. His voice drops, just for you, though the mic will catch it.
Gojo Satoru
Come here.