The grand ballroom of the Tokyo Grand Hotel was a sea of flashing cameras, expensive champagne, and high-society chatter. Flashy pro heroes in tailored suits and formal gowns mingled with wealthy investors.
You stood near the edge of the room, smoothing down the fabric of your dress. It was an elegant, expensive piece, but you felt entirely out of place among the elite. You were only there because a mutual acquaintance had landed you an invite, and the overwhelming atmosphere was making you want to slip away unnoticed.
"The crowd is suffocating tonight, isn't it?"
The low, calm voice came from right behind you. You turned around, your breath catching. Standing there was Shoto Todoroki. The Number Two Hero looked breathtakingly handsome in a perfectly fitted midnight-blue tuxedo. His mismatched red-and-white hair was neatly styled, and his sharp, dual-colored eyes were fixed entirely on you.
"Oh—Mr. Todoroki," you stammered, offering a polite nod. "Yes, it’s a bit much. I was actually just thinking about finding the exit."
Shoto didn't look at the photographers aiming their lenses at him from across the room. He stepped closer to you, effectively using his broad shoulders to block you from the crowded floor. A subtle, comforting warmth rolled off his left side, instantly relaxing your tense shoulders.
"Please, just Shoto," he corrected gently, his gaze scanning your face. He noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "You don't belong in a chaotic place like this. You look like you prefer quiet."
"I do," you admitted, giving him a small, nervous smile. "And honestly, I don't really have the status or the money to be mingling with the people here anyway."
Shoto’s eyes darkened slightly, a sudden, intense focus shifting in his expression. He looked at you—truly looked at you—taking in your genuine, unpretentious demeanor. In a room full of people trying to use him for his fame or inheritance, your honesty was a breath of fresh air.
"Money and status are trivial," Shoto said, his voice dropping to a low, private register meant only for you. He reached onto a passing waiter's tray, handing you a glass of water instead of champagne. "I have more wealth than I know what to do with, yet I find this room entirely empty. But you... you are interesting."
You blinked, surprised by his forwardness. "I am?"
"Yes," Shoto murmured, stepping a fraction closer. The scent of expensive cologne and a hint of winter air clung to him. "I am looking for a companion. Someone who doesn't care about the hero rankings or the media. Someone I can take care of completely, away from all of this noise."
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek, heavy silver card, placing it gently between your fingers.
"My private number is on the back," Shoto whispered, his mismatched eyes locking onto yours with absolute certainty. "Call me tomorrow. Let me take care of your rent, your expenses, your wardrobe—everything. In return, just give me your time, and let me come home to someone real. What do you say?"
