Image At the End!
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I turned and walked to my room, shutting the door behind me. Without wasting time, I opened the Crafting Room ability, letting the system generate a workspace.
I grabbed a dark fabric first, measuring it against myself before shaking my head. Too formal. This wasn't some high-society gala, just a dinner that required something above casual wear. I needed something sharp but not suffocating.
"System, show me preset suits."
A menu popped up, cycling through options. I selected a dark vest over a collared shirt, sleek but not over-the-top. The system confirmed the choice, and the fabric restructured itself automatically, stitches forming in real time.
While that worked, I started on the others. I already knew Uraraka didn't like anything too flashy, so I picked a fitted yet simple dress in a soft color. Nejire, on the other hand, wanted something cute but still practical… short enough to let her move, nothing that would slow her down.
Tsuyu was easy. Simple, elegant, not flashy. She didn't care much for fashion, so I went with something sleek… something she wouldn't fidget with or complain about later. Dark green, short sleeves, easy to move in. It would work.
Ryukyu? Straightforward. She wasn't the type to fuss over appearances. I kept it professional… something sharp, refined, nothing overly complicated. Dark blue with gold trim. She would tolerate it.
That left Mirko.
Should I screw with her? Of course I should.
I rubbed my chin, scrolling through options. Something ridiculous, something that would get a reaction. A pink nightmare? Full-on ballroom gown? Something that screamed 'fuck you, I win?'
Then it hit me.
I grinned. "Oh yeah. This is going to be perfect."
The system flashed a confirmation as a frilly monstrosity began to materialize. A pastel pink ballgown with lace sleeves, a poofy skirt big enough to house a small family, and more ribbons than a Valentine's Day gift exploded into existence. A tiara sat on top, mocking me with its innocent sparkle.
It wasn't just humiliating. It was psychological warfare.
I was going to die for this.
I crossed my arms as the last stitch settled into place, the outfits settled neatly on my bed. "Alright," I muttered. "One chaotic fashion statement ready to destroy friendships."
A knock on the door. "Oi, you done yet?" Mirko.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, scooping up the outfits. "Give me a sec."
She didn't wait. The door swung open. I turned, holding up the frilly pink nightmare with the most innocent face I could manage.
"For you."
She froze mid-step. Stared at the dress. Then at me. Back at the dress.
"You are fucking with me."
I didn't blink. "Nope. Formal wear. Specially tailored. Breathable fabric. Optimized for maximum princess energy."
Nejire popped her head in, took one look, and immediately collapsed against the doorframe.
"Oh my god," she wheezed, tears already streaming down her face. "Oh my god, you are insane. She is gonna kill you."
Mirko snatched the dress out of my hands like it had personally insulted her. She held it up by two fingers, staring at the ribbons and lace like she was examining a corpse.
"You made this for me?"
I nodded solemnly.
"Pastel pink. Ruffles. A tiara."
"Delicate femininity never looked so good," I said.
"You are real fucking bold for someone whose bones heal slow, Ryuu." Mirko said, eyebrow twitching.
I hid my grin, but failed miserably, "That is fine. Make sure my funeral has good catering."
Nejire was still wheezing, "Oh my GOD. He is suicidal. This is art."
"You actually wanna die."
"I accept my fate."
Nejire was howling now, clutching her stomach. "Please. Please. Just once. Do it for the culture."
Mirko crumpled the dress in her hands, her crimson eyes glowing with enough murder to make a grown man shit himself. But she paused, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. That was the trick… I had made it too damn good. High-end stitching, silk lining, the kind of material princesses probably wore to black-tie galas.
"You actually put effort into this," she muttered.
"Of course," I said. "I respect you."
Her glare could've melted steel.
"You respect me," she repeated flatly.
"Deeply."
Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. You're serious?"
I didn't flinch. "As death itself."
For a second, I swore I saw her soul leave her body.
Nejire wheezed harder. "He respects you so much, he made sure the tiara doesn't fall off during combat."
Mirko muttered something that sounded like "I am going to strangle this little shit in his sleep", then tossed the dress over her shoulder.
"I will think about it."
Nejire gasped, clapping like a seal. "Oh my god, that is not a no."
Mirko ignored her. "Where is my actual outfit?"
I sighed dramatically and handed her a proper one… a tailored suit, loose enough for movement, sharp enough to fit the occasion. She grabbed it and pointed a finger at me.
"You are lucky I like fucking with people more than I like punching you."
Nejire snorted. "That is the only reason you are alive, honestly."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered.
"Okay, okay," Nejire said, waving her hands. "We need to change. I wanna see how hot we all look."
Mirko raised a brow. "You mean you wanna see how hot you look."
Nejire didn't even pretend to deny it.
An hour later, we all met in the agency lobby.
Nejire had gone full smug mode, twirling in her dress like she was the main character. "Damn, Ryuu, you actually have taste."
"Obviously," I said.
Uraraka adjusted her dress, tugging at the hem. "I feel weird."
"You look great," Tsuyu said.
Mirko was in her actual suit, but I saw her bag tucked under her arm. She was keeping the princess dress. She was keeping it. That meant at some point, she was going to wear it. Whether it was for a joke or to commit a crime, I didn't know.
That was either the best or worst thing to ever happen. If I wake up tomorrow to find myself strangled with pink ribbon, I will know which.
I glanced at Ryukyu, who looked me over. "Functional. Not bad."
"Try not to sound too impressed," I said.
She gave me a small, amused nod.
We headed out. The restaurant was fancy, the type with chandeliers and people who looked like they actually knew what three forks were for. Nejire was practically vibrating. Uraraka looked out of place. Tsuyu was just going with the flow. Mirko looked like she was waiting for someone to start a fight.
A waiter led us to a private table. The second we sat down, I leaned toward Nejire.
"Fifty bucks she breaks something." I nodded at Mirko.
Nejire smirked. "She is gonna flip a table."
Ryukyu sighed. "She better not."
Mirko stretched, glancing at the menu. "What is the most expensive thing here?"
Ryukyu gave her a warning look. "Mirko."
She grinned. "Relax, boss. I will only order five."
Uraraka, looking at the names, no price, visibly paled.
I smirked. "Feeling fancy, Uravity?"
She glared at me. "I can afford this! No price means expensive. Everybody knows that."
Tsuyu blinked. "You are sweating."
Nejire leaned closer, eyes sparkling. "If you can't afford it, I can pay for you. But it will cost you your soul."
Uraraka groaned. "This is bullying."
Mirko waved her off. "Don't worry, Bubbly will cover it."
Nejire gasped. "How dare you. I am a struggling student."
"You work with Ryukyu."
Nejire cleared her throat. "A struggling emotional student."
Ryukyu ignored all of us. "Order something reasonable."
Mirko pointed at the menu. "Give me the wagyu platter."
Ryukyu sighed.
The waiter returned. We ordered. Mirko made a point to order the most obnoxiously expensive thing she could. Nejire followed her lead. Uraraka tried to keep it cheap.
While we waited, I leaned back. "Alright. Place your bets. What is the first thing to go wrong?"
Nejire wiggled her fingers. "Someone spills wine on Mirko."
Mirko cracked her knuckles. "I dare them."
Uraraka looked at her glass. "I might spill mine."
Tsuyu nodded. "That is likely."
Ryukyu ignored us.
The food arrived, and people barely waited before digging in. Mirko wasted no time slicing into her wagyu, her smirk daring anyone to comment. Nejire was already making eyes at the tiny, overpriced desserts, planning her next move. Uraraka was doing the math in her head, probably regretting every life choice that led to this. Tsuyu ate quietly, her usual calm presence balancing out Nejire's energy.
"This steak is ridiculous," Mirko muttered. "I could take out half the villains in this city with one bite."
Nejire reached over with her fork. "Lemme try."
Mirko swatted her hand away. "Get your own, mooch."
"I would, but I spent all my money on my outfit."
Ryukyu exhaled. "You didn't buy anything. Ryuu made it for you."
Nejire gasped. "Exactly! That is priceless labor. I am practically broke."
Mirko snorted. "I will break you."
Uraraka side-eyed her steak, clearly debating if it was worth the price tag. "At least tell me it is good."
Nejire, undeterred, snuck a piece off Mirko's plate. "Ohhh, yeah, no regrets. That is stupid good."
Mirko muttered something under her breath but didn't stop her. Ryukyu barely glanced up from her food. Tsuyu was sipping her drink, eyes flicking between them.
"You think this is expensive, you should see the shit Endeavor eats," Mirko said, cutting into another piece. "Man got taste buds that only respond to money."
Tsuyu tilted her head. "Like what?"
"Some imported crap. Can't even pronounce half of it. I swear, dude just buys the most expensive thing on the menu to flex."
"Must be nice," Uraraka mumbled, eyeing her own plate like it was a threat.
Nejire grinned. "You know, you could let Ryuu pay."
Uraraka gave her a look. "I don't need charity."
"Technically, it would be villain-funded reparation money."
Tsuyu blinked. "That is not better."
I leaned back, sipping my drink. "It is fine. I like flexing."
Mirko shook her head. "You like being an ass."
I smirked. "Same thing."
Nejire stretched, shifting in her seat. "Alright, real question. Who here actually follows fancy dining etiquette?"
Ryukyu didn't look up. "Me."
Tsuyu nodded. "I do."
Mirko scoffed. "Pfft. Who needs that?"
Uraraka waved a fork. "Rich people and people who don't wanna embarrass themselves."
Nejire turned to me. "And you?"
I shrugged. "I know it. Doesn't mean I use it."
Nejire wiggled her eyebrows. "Ooooh, cultured chaos."
Mirko wiped her mouth. "It is pointless. If the food is good, why waste time with all the tiny forks?"
Ryukyu sighed. "Because some people like structure."
Mirko leaned back. "Yeah, and some people like throwing hands."
Uraraka was still frowning at the menu. "How do people eat like this all the time?"
Nejire gestured dramatically. "Rich people don't count money. They just know they have it."
Tsuyu blinked. "That sounds like a bad habit."
I nodded. "That is how you get billionaires."
The waiter gave me a knowing smirk. "You are lucky, sir, surrounded by all these ladies."
Mirko's knife froze mid-cut.
I grinned. "Oh, trust me. It is not luck… it is poor life decisions stacked on top of each other."
Nejire choked on her drink, and Mirko muttered something about "shoving that smirk down his throat."
Mirko huffed. "Man, you could buy a whole ass car for the price of some of these drinks."
Nejire tapped her chin. "Okay, but what if the drink tastes like happiness?"
Uraraka nudged her glass. "It tastes like bankruptcy."
Ryukyu sighed. "Then maybe stop looking at the bill and enjoy the meal."
Nejire grinned. "Oh, I am. I just also enjoy watching Uraraka suffer."
Uraraka muttered something under her breath, stabbing at her food.
"Ryukyu, still paying, right?" Mirko said, swirling her drink like she was considering ordering another round just to mess with her.
Ryukyu barely glanced up from her plate. "Yes. But if you start ordering the entire menu, I will reconsider."
Mirko smirked. "No takebacks."
Uraraka, who had been staring at the bill like it held the secrets to the universe, suddenly cleared her throat. "Uh, actually, if you…" She stopped, probably realizing halfway through that this was a terrible idea.
Nejire, of course, jumped on it immediately. "Oh my god, are you about to say you will pay for yourself?"
Uraraka visibly hesitated. "I mean, I could…"
Nejire grabbed my arm, shaking me slightly. "Ryuu, Ryuu, imagine if Ryukyu said yes."
I sighed dramatically. "That would be beautiful. She would just sit here, silently suffering, regretting every life choice that led her to this moment."
Uraraka scowled. "I hate both of you."
Ryukyu set her utensils down, finally giving Uraraka her full attention. "Are you asking to cover your part?"
Uraraka tensed. "N-No! I mean… only if you want me to!"
Ryukyu let the silence drag just long enough to make her sweat before shaking her head. "No."
Uraraka exhaled like she had just survived a near-death experience. She smiled, rubbing the back of her head, but it was hollow. It was the same tight little smile people wear when they are trying to convince you they are fine while drowning.
I stared at her. She had spent the entire night on edge, scanning the menu like it was a bomb manual, ordered the cheapest thing in sight, and sat there stiff as a board… because in her head, there was still this slim, desperate chance she might have to pay her own way..
I let out a slow breath, trying not to let my frustration show.
She really thought she would have to cover her part here.
She really thought she wasn't allowed to just exist in this moment without calculating what it would cost her.
This wasn't funny. It wasn't even the pathetic kind of sad. It was rage-inducing. The world had beaten into her this idea that she had to earn her right to breathe at a fucking dinner table. That even now, hero name, costume, and all, she had to count pennies in her head just to exist. I wanted to set fire to the chandelier and dropkick every rich bastard in this place for that.
And I hated it. I hated places like this. I hated expensive.
Hated that the world had taught her to think like that. Hated that some dumb dinner table could pull those thoughts back to the surface.
My jaw tightened. I didn't say anything, though. She was already embarrassed. She didn't need me to make it worse by calling it out.
Nejire pouted. "Damn. Almost had her."
Mirko leaned back, tapping her glass. "We should've let her sweat longer. Would've been fun."
"Hey!" Uraraka huffed. "I was just trying to be polite!"
Nejire snickered. "Yeah, yeah. You survived. Barely."
Mirko flagged down the waiter. "Bring another bottle."
Ryukyu sighed. "You are paying for your part."
Mirko grinned. "Obviously."
Tsuyu glanced at the wine list. "We are drinking more?"
Nejire clapped. "Yes! Ryuu still needs to get tipsy."
I shook my head. "I am perfectly fine."
Mirko smirked. "For now."
The waiter returned with another bottle, pouring refills.
Nejire nudged my glass closer to me. "Come on, Ryuu, just a little more."
I picked it up. "I am not your personal entertainment."
"You absolutely are."
(Check Here)
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The cake is a lie.
But the Power Stone button is very real.
And you ignored it.
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