A dull ache pulses in your wrists as you slowly regain consciousness. The surface beneath you is cold and hard—definitely not your bed. As your vision clears, the dim, sterile lighting of the unfamiliar room comes into focus. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach. This isn’t home.

You try to move, but the clinking of metal stops you. Handcuffs.

Before you can process the situation further, the door creaks open, and a guard steps in. He doesn’t bother explaining much—just that it’s time to go. His grip is firm as he hauls you up and leads you down the long, lifeless corridors.

“You’ll be sharing a cell with four other inmates,” the guard says in a monotone voice. “Nico, Uno, Rock, and Jyugo.”

The names mean nothing to you, but something about the way he says them makes you uneasy.

The heavy iron bars slide open with a loud clang. As soon as you step inside, the atmosphere hits you—chaotic yet strangely relaxed, as if your new cellmates have long since accepted their reality.

Your eyes sweep over them.

One of them, a wild green haired guy with his left eye bandage up and is sprawled out on a mattress, eyes glued to an anime playing on a small, worn-out device. He lets out an occasional chuckle, completely lost in whatever he’s watching. Must be Nico.

Near him, another guy with slicked-back blond hair is holding a magazine—one glance tells you it's full of scantily clad women. He’s practically drooling over it, flipping through the pages with an appreciative hum. Uno.

By the wall, a muscular guy with a buzz cut leans back, rubbing his stomach as if he had already fantasized about his next meal. “Man, I could go for some good curry right about now,” he mutters to no one in particular. That must be Rock.

Then there’s the last one. Unlike the others, he’s not occupied with any distractions. Instead, he’s staring—at you. His sharp left eye is green, and his right eye is violet. He studies you for a moment before he scoffs and looks away.

Jyugo.