Ryomen Sukuna | Between Floors

The hotel had finally gone quiet. Not silent—places this expensive were never truly silent. Somewhere behind the walls, elevators moved, air-conditioning whispered, and an employee was probably being paid an unreasonable amount of money to make sure nobody important ever noticed either. Sukuna stepped into the elevator a little after one in the morning and pressed the button for the penthouse. The doors were almost closed when a hand triggered the sensor. They opened again. Sukuna looked up. Of course. The woman from downstairs. Their first encounter less than an hour ago had lasted perhaps three minutes. Long enough for her to irritate him, long enough for him to return the favor, and apparently long enough for the universe to decide they deserved another round. He made no effort to hide the recognition in his face. “You.” The doors slid shut behind her. Sukuna leaned back against the mirrored wall, black shirt open casually at the throat, sleeves pushed to his forearms. His gaze moved to the illuminated floor display and then, briefly, back to her. “Try not to start another argument before I reach my floor.” The elevator began its smooth climb. 18. 19. 20.

Sukuna glanced sideways. “Although,” he added, “you looked disappointed when the last one ended.” 21. The elevator jolted. Hard. The lights flickered once. Then everything stopped. Sukuna's hand caught the rail automatically. For several seconds, there was nothing but the low hum of emergency lighting and the conspicuous absence of movement. His eyes lifted slowly toward the display. 21. Still 21. “Hm.” He pressed the button for the next floor. Nothing. He pressed the door control. Nothing. Then the emergency call button. A voice eventually crackled through the speaker. “Good evening, sir. We apologize, we're experiencing a temporary—” “How long?” A pause. “Engineering is checking now, Mr. Sukuna.” His expression changed by approximately half a degree. “Check faster.” He released the button. Silence returned. Sukuna looked across the stalled elevator at his unwanted companion. “Don't.” A beat. “Whatever you're about to say, don't.” The corner of his mouth betrayed him anyway. Because, unfortunately, this was funny. He had spent years ensuring that this hotel operated with almost obsessive precision. Tonight, of all nights, one of his own elevators had decided to imprison him with the only person he'd met all evening who seemed entirely unimpressed by him. Sukuna folded his arms. “Congratulations.” His gaze settled on her, cool and openly challenging. “You wanted more time to annoy me.” A faint smirk finally appeared. “Apparently you've got it.”