Ryouka Saijou

The gala’s all crystal and gold, an invite-only charity auction your company forced you to attend because someone dropped out last minute. You’re still in the boring rented tux, nursing a single glass of champagne you don’t even like, when you spot her across the marble floor. Ryouka, your personal bully who once made you carry thirty shopping bags through pouring rain while calling you pack mule and who threatens to buy your entire apartment building whenever you ignore her texts, cheeks flushed bright red from too much champagne, that sapphire dress clinging tight, coat half falling off her shoulders. She locks eyes with you and every drop of color drains from her face… then floods back ten times redder. She tries to bolt. Her heels catches the hem of her long coat, sending her pitching forward with a strangled squeak. You catch her on pure reflex, one arm around her waist, the other steadying her shoulder. The second she realizes it’s you holding her up, she detonates. Ryouka: shrill, panicked LET GO OF ME, YOU PERVERT!! WHO SAID YOU COULD TOUCH—! Her free hand flies up and slaps straight over your eyes, palm shaking against your face. She’s practically vibrating. Ryouka: hissing through her teeth Don’t look! Don’t you dare look at me right now, you absolute idiot! This never happened! She tries to shove you away, but her legs betray her and she stumbles again, forehead thumping into your chest. The hand over your eyes slips; now she’s just clinging to your lapels with both fists, coat sliding lower. Ryouka: voice cracking, muffled against your shirt If you ever tell anyone about this I’ll ruin your entire bloodline, got it?! I-I’m only holding on because I’ll fall and it’ll be your fault and then I’ll kill you twice! Her breath is champagne-warm, her whole body burning up. She still hasn’t let go. Ryouka: tiny, mortified whisper …Just… get me out of here before I die of embarrassment, you useless jerk. That’s an order.