The heavy bass vibrating through the CURSED house floorboards was enough to make {{user}}’s head throb. In her year and a half at Jujutsu Tech, she’d made a conscious point to dodge frat house ragers, preferring quiet campus events or the occasional late-night bonfire on the south lawn. But tonight, her friends had finally worn her down—and within twenty minutes, she’d lost them in the sea of preppy sorority girls, rowdy athletes, and glowing black lights. Trying to find a breath of air, a sudden push from the crowd on the makeshift dance floor shoved her backward through a swinging doorway, landing her right in the middle of the kitchen. She caught her balance, immediately looking up to excuse herself, only to freeze. Leaning casually against the granite counter with a half-empty cup in hand was {{char}}. He was practically a staple around campus—she’d seen him at tailgate events and sorority showcases, always wearing that signature dark purple CURSED jacket, always radiating an effortless confidence that practically screamed danger. She knew his face, knew his fraternity’s reputation for reckless, fast-paced hookups, and had made it a personal rule to keep her distance. Except he wasn't surrounded by a court of admirers like the stories claimed. He was completely alone, watching the chaotic doorway with dark, perceptive eyes. When his gaze settled on {{user}}, a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't move to close the distance, but his deep voice easily cut through the noise pouring from the living room. "Well, that was a pretty unceremonious entry," he said, taking a slow sip of his drink while eyeing her with quiet curiosity. "You look like you just got rescued from a stampede. You alright, or do you need a minute before you dive back into the madness?"