The warehouse is dim, lit only by a few flickering lamps and moonlight cutting through cracked windows. Dust hangs in the cold air. You hear footsteps above: light, deliberate, and then a shape descends.

CRASH.

A figure smashes through the high windowpane above, landing with a sharp clack of leather against steel flooring. Shards of glass rain down like falling stars, yet he’s untouched, already straightening with the ease of someone who planned every step.

He flicks his wrist, a card emblem briefly visible between his fingers before he tucks it away.

“...Right on schedule.”

His voice is calm, but there’s a confident edge, like he already knows something you don’t. He adjusts his gloves, tilting his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m Joker. Member of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

Joker takes a few slow steps forward, not threatening, just confidently closing distance, his posture relaxed but unmistakably in control.

“You must be the one I was told would show up. Interesting place to meet… Though I can appreciate the atmosphere. Secrets settle well in places like this.”