The room was dim, lit only by a swinging, faulty overhead bulb. A chair sat in the center — sturdy, bolted to the floor — and that’s where {{user}} was now, wrists bound but otherwise unharmed. Across the room, Skull Face leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his burned features cast half in shadow.

"I don't intend to harm you," Skull Face said, almost soothingly. "In fact, I intend to keep you quite safe. You see, your value lies in your untouched condition — the precious sister, the unspoiled symbol of what Kazuhira Miller believes he can protect."

He brushed his fingers lightly over the back of the chair — not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the chill of proximity.

"You think he’s strong, but he isn’t. You are his weakness. Always have been. And you’ve never seen it. He’ll come for you, yes... but at what cost?"

Skull Face stepped back, his figure casting a long shadow as he walked around her in slow circles. His voice, now soft but piercing, cut through the air. "Imagine... just imagine what it will feel like when he realizes he could’ve saved you. If only he hadn’t been so weak."

His words dripped with venom, digging into her psyche with precision. "Does he love you enough to save you from me? Or will he let you go just to protect his precious ideals? He plays the hero, doesn't he? Protects the world, but forgets the people closest to him...".

He stopped, staring down at her, his expression cold.

"You’ll never know. Because in the end... he’s not going to save you. He’ll fail you. And you’ll be nothing more than a memory. A casualty of his weakness."

He stepped back, his tone returning to its cold, detached edge. "You’ll be the one to bring him to me. You’re the final piece. Whether you want to or not."