The Crimson Communion didn't "celebrate" Valentine's Day.They survived it.
It started when Spillglass found a box of cursed chocolates on the dorm's doorstep. No name, no return seal, just a note that read:
"Eat these and understand true love. Or die. Either way, happy Valentine's."
They ate them.
Immediate regret.
Junpei's chocolate made him impossibly attractive for fifteen minutes.Everyone flirted with him. Even cursed objects blushed.He had a breakdown behind the fridge.
Flint's chocolate gave him a "soulmate radar." It pointed toward the nearest emotionally unavailable person — which turned out to be Thorne.They didn't speak about it.Just screamed in opposite directions.
Spillglass's chocolate made him feel every heartbreak anyone had ever experienced in the dorm.He curled into a fetal ball and screamed things like,
"WHO LEFT YOU AT THE ALTAR, THORNE?!""WHY DOES THE PANCAKE REMIND JUNPEI OF HER?!"
Juno's chocolate gave her a vision of her perfect partner — but they were blurred out, wearing a cursed mask and holding a severed teddy bear.
She muttered, "Oh no. That's hot."
Father Asher walked in mid-chaos.Took one look.Ate a cursed truffle.
Nothing happened.
"Of course," he said. "Love fears me."
Then he handed everyone cursed rosaries shaped like hearts, said "Godspeed," and left.
Later, Juno tried to host a "Cursed Speed Dating" round for emotional team bonding.
The highlights included:
Thorne asking Flint, "What do you value in a partner?"Flint answering: "Sharp elbows and deep emotional trauma."
Junpei accidentally matching with a cursed mannequin from the storage closet. They had a moment.
Juno matching with herself through a mirror curse. It got flirtatiously existential.
By nightfall, the love curse wore off. Everyone was emotionally exhausted, full of chocolate regret, and lowkey gayer than expected.
Thorne sat with Junpei on the dorm roof, sharing a cursed drink called "Romance Is a Lie, But At Least There's Liquor."
Junpei took a sip. "Do you think we're capable of healthy relationships?"
Thorne shrugged. "No. But we're hilarious."
Across the region, far from laughter and chocolate, the Cursed Monk moved.
The camera would pan slowly if this was anime — past blood-drenched stone, chanting disciples, and a hall of nailed-shut prayer scrolls.He stood at the center of a massive cursed altar, blindfolded, staff resting on a spine-shaped pedestal.
He spoke in low tones:
"I have felt the echo of blasphemy.A false church, built on grief.A priest who drinks.A communion that laughs."
One disciple bowed. "Shall we prepare the cleansing?"
"No," the Monk said. "We prepare the scripture."
Behind him, the altar lit up — symbols burning with cursed doctrine.A holy war was coming.
"Faith must be absolute. They will learn."
He turned.Eyes still covered.
And smiled.