Ms. Gojo thought she was dating an ordinary person's boyfriend.

On the morning after the torrential rain, the sky over Tokyo was washed clean and clear blue.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting pale golden rays across the carpet. The bedroom still held the lingering scent of the passionate night before.

Sumire Kikkawa opened her eyes in the stillness.

He instinctively tightened his arms, the warm, soft touch in his embrace so real it made his heart burn.

Gojo Satoru was curled up in his arms, his silver hair falling over his collarbone, his eyelashes casting a soft shadow, and his breathing long and even.

Those usually bright blue eyes, filled with countless stars, were now quietly closed, with only the slightly fluttering eyelashes revealing the owner's relaxed state as she slept soundly.

Sumi Kichikawa instantly softened her movements, even unconsciously slowing her breathing.

He lowered his head, his gaze slowly, little by little, moving downwards.

From the earlobe that I kissed until it turned red, to the faint teeth marks on the side of my neck that had long since solidified into dark brown, and then to the deep and shallow, crisscrossing red marks on my collarbone, chest, and waist.

Everything that had been blurred by desire in the dim light of last night was now magnified mercilessly before his eyes in the clear morning sunlight.

Kikawa Sumi's breath hitched.

What happened yesterday afternoon was like a reel of film that had gone out of control, playing back in his mind in a chaotic and violent manner—

Shunping being beaten in the abandoned underground parking lot, Zhenren huddled in the shadows, the three boys still laughing and joking in the arcade, the rule lines spreading out like a net when fingertips lightly pluck the [Causal Ring], and...

And at the moment the [Causal Ring] converged, the void that was almost torn apart by the backlash.

That was the first time since his retirement that he had truly mobilized the power of a "tasker".

The backlash from the rules, exceeding the threshold he could withstand, forcibly dragged him back into that long, endless abyss.

He forgot who he was, where he was, and even what form a "human" being should take. Only a vague yet almost branded obsession remained in his mind:

Return to Wu's side.

He doesn't remember much of what happened after that.

All I remember is the rain, the streetlights, and the blinding warm light when I opened the door to my house.

All I remember is that when he fell into that familiar embrace, he heard a gentle, unwavering "I'm here."

Then came a complete and utter loss of control.

Kikawa Sumi's fingertips trembled, hovering above the scabbed-over shallow mark on Gojo Satoru's neck, not daring to actually place them down.

What did I do last night when I was on the verge of breaking down?

He remembered biting the other person's neck, remembered his almost savage grabbing, remembered repeatedly murmuring "It can only be mine"—

Those are all him, and yet none of them are him.

When he is out of control, he is completely out of control.

He knew that Gojo Satoru, as a sorcerer, must have a physique far superior to that of ordinary people, and he also knew that the other party had responded to him frankly from beginning to end last night.

But... but Gojo Satoru might not be able to handle him when he's out of control.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Sumire Kikawa's forehead.

He carefully, almost holding his breath, tried to sit up, his fingertips involuntarily reaching down to check the places on the other person's waist where his fingers had been tightly clasped, to see if there were any more serious injuries that he hadn't noticed last night.

The moment his fingertips touched that pale waist, a hand lazily emerged from under the covers and grabbed his wrist.

"Is Xiaocheng going to launch a morning attack on me first thing in the morning?"

A hoarse and languid voice came from his chest, with a slight nasal tone from just waking up, but the ending tone was a familiar, deliberately upturned teasing tone.

Sumire Kikkawa froze.

He lowered his head and met a pair of pale blue eyes that were slowly opening, still hazy with sleep.

The owner of the eyes had clearly been awake for a while, but was too lazy to move, quietly nestled in his arms, pretending to sleep.

"Satoru..." Sumi's voice was still a little hoarse, "I want to take a look at your body—"

"No, you can't see." Gojo Satoru interrupted him without any politeness, pressing himself even closer into his arms, hiding all the messy traces between their intertwined embraces.

The silver-haired youth raised his hand, his fingertips casually tracing the unkempt stubble on Kikawa Sumi's chin. His pale blue eyes curved slightly, and his voice held an undisguised mockery:

"Staring at me like this so early in the morning, are you planning to do it again during the day?"

"—No, no." Sumi's ears instantly turned red.

The heaviness and self-reproach of the night were swept away by this lighthearted jest.

He opened his mouth, wanting to explain something, but didn't know how to say it. In the end, he could only repeat in vain, "I just... wanted to see if you were hurt..."

Gojo Satoru found his embarrassed appearance utterly hilarious.

The lone wolf who had pinned him down last night, wishing it could devour him whole, blood and bones, was now blushing with guilt, its eyes brimming with shame, because it didn't know how to face him.

Really...

It makes you want to tease him a little more.

Gojo Satoru didn't answer immediately, but slowly reached out, hooked his neck, and pulled him down an inch.

He gave Kikkawa a light, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth, then leaned close to his ear and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"More than that, I want to know,"

"Is Xiaocheng feeling any better?"

Kikawa Sumi suddenly froze, all her tension and self-blame turning into bewilderment in those words.

Last night's stumbling and outbursts, those incoherent murmurs, that almost pathological possessiveness.

Anyone could see that something was wrong with him, let alone Gojo Satoru.

But from beginning to end, he never asked "why".

Don't ask him why he came back soaking wet, don't ask him why his eyes were filled with such emptiness, don't ask him why he said "it's scary outside".

The other party didn't even ask "What happened?"

It simply embraced all his madness and vulnerability.

And now, in this quiet morning, bathed in the soft morning light, the person in his arms only softly asked him—

Are you feeling any better?

For some reason, Sumi Kichikawa's eyes felt a little hot.

He opened his mouth, but something soft seemed to block his throat, and after a long while, he managed to utter a weak "hmm".

"That's good." Gojo Satoru narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, gently tapping his cheek with his fingertip, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible heartache that was carefully concealed.

He paused, then deliberately switched back to his lazy, teasing tone:

"However, Xiao Cheng really gave me a fright last night."

"He suddenly seemed like a completely different person."

Sumi Kichikawa's body stiffened again.

That deep, almost overflowing guilt crept back into his eyes.

"I'm sorry..." Sumi Kichikawa lowered her eyes, her Adam's apple bobbing laboredly. "It won't happen again."

"Why should I apologize?"

Gojo Satoru interrupted him, his fingertips gently tracing the dark circles under Kisakawa Sumi's eyes, his tone soft:

"Xiaocheng has always treated me like a fragile thing, keeping all her sadness to herself. But you're willing to show that out-of-control, reckless expression in front of me, willing to ask me for things... it must be because you trust me, right?"

Because of trust, one dares to reveal their vulnerabilities; because one knows that this person will catch them, one dares to let their rationality collapse.

Sumire Kichikawa stared blankly at the beautiful face before her.

There was not a trace of blame in those pale blue eyes, only complete tolerance and undisguised favoritism.

In front of this person, he doesn't need to play the role of someone who is always perfect, gentle, and ready to hand over the sword at any time.

Suddenly, her eyes burned intensely. Kikawa Sumi silently lowered her head, pulled her arms around her, and held her lover tightly in her embrace.

"Mmm." He responded sullenly, burying his face in Gojo Satoru's neck. "From now on... I'm leaving everything to you."

Gojo Satoru patted him on the back with a smile: "That's right." A satisfied smile quietly appeared on his lips.