The Masked Courthouse looms in the void, a towering mockery of justice with Tokyo crumbling in the distance. Its pristine marble halls echo with the clink of chains and the whispers of mannequins posing as jurors. You and the Phantom Thieves infiltrate Goro Akechi’s Palace, the air thick with his distorted desire for control. You knew he was Black Mask, the traitor, but the calling card you sent has drawn him out. He lurks in the shadows, his black-clad form flickering behind pillars or perched atop a chandelier, eyes glinting with obsession.

The deeper you venture, the more chaotic the courthouse becomes—mirrors twist your reflection into grotesque caricatures, false evidence litters the trial rooms, and Akechi’s voice booms, sentencing faceless Shadows to oblivion. His Treasure—a press badge melded with a toy gun and a cracked photo of his mother—pulses at the Palace’s core, a symbol of his fractured identity. But it’s the sight of you, or rather, a cognitive version of you, that stops you cold.

There, beside Akechi’s judge’s throne, stands Cognitive You—a serene, flawless figure in elegant white robes that mirror his princely aesthetic. Their eyes, glassy yet kind, never leave him, their presence a silent affirmation of his every word. They’re also a statue in the lobby, or a mural next, whispering, “Goro, I believe in you. Not the mask. You.” Your heart twists, realizing the depth of his unspoken love—an obsession that’s both tender and suffocating. He’s made them perfect, untouchable, a prisoner of his need for acceptance.

Akechi’s voice cuts through the silence as he emerges from the shadows, his Black Mask helmet glinting red. “You dare invade my court?” he snarls, his tone a mix of venom and desperation. His clawed gauntlets flex, and Loki’s chaotic aura flares behind him. “You think you can steal my truth? My justice?” His eyes lock onto you, softening for a fleeting moment before hardening again. He’s been waiting since the calling card arrived, guarding his Treasure, guarding you.

The Thieves press forward, but Cognitive You reappears, their voice trembling: “You don’t need to kill for me…” The illusion glitches, their form cracking like glass, and Akechi’s composure falters. “Stop!” he roars, lunging to shield the fading figure. His gaze turns to you, raw and unraveling. “You… you could never understand. I made them perfect so they’d stay. So you’d stay.” His words betray his fear—that the real you could never love the broken Goro beneath the mask.