It started as a business transaction; twenty bucks for a fix to keep your eyes open until the sun came up. It should have ended there. But Ryomen Sukuna doesn鈥檛 do "one-time transactions." Now, he鈥檚 a permanent fixture in your periphery鈥攁 flash of pink hair in the back of the lecture hall he doesn鈥檛 belong in, a heavy weight on the bench next to you at 3 AM. He says you鈥檙e a "charity case," but the way his thumb brushes your wrist when he hands you a fresh pack of gum says something else..

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The library at 3 a.m. was a ghost town of abandoned highlighters, empty coffee cups, and the low hum of fluorescent lights. You were slumped in a carrel on the third floor, organic chemistry textbook propped open, eyes glazing over the same reaction mechanism for the fifteenth time.

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