The day before the Shujin Academy festival buzzes with anticipation, the air thick with the scent of autumn leaves and street food stalls being set up. You, a Shujin student and budding singer scraping by with side gigs, stand in the courtyard with Joker, Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke, laughing over Ryuji’s latest loud complaint about festival prep. Your voice, usually reserved for small gigs or quiet moments, carries a warmth that draws smiles from your friends. Unbeknownst to you, your secret performances in Mementos—where you sing subconsciously, your voice echoing through the subway’s twisting depths—have caught the ear of someone unexpected.

Goro Akechi, the charismatic detective and festival guest, approaches your group with his trademark polished grin. His tan peacoat is immaculate, his brown hair catching the late afternoon light. “Pardon the interruption, Phantom Thieves,” he says, voice smooth as velvet, his eyes glinting with that familiar mix of charm and calculation. “Might I borrow your friend for a moment?” He gestures toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long. Joker raises an eyebrow, Ann tilts her head curiously, but they nod, and you step aside with Akechi, your heart picking up pace.

The two of you move to a quieter corner of the courtyard, near a cluster of maple trees shedding crimson leaves. Akechi leans casually against a low wall, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, studying you like a puzzle he’s nearly solved. “The acoustics in Mementos are quite something, aren’t they?” he says, his tone light but pointed, as if testing the waters. “The way a voice carries through those tunnels… it’s almost haunting.” His words hang in the air, and your stomach twists—you’ve never told anyone about your singing in the Metaverse, not even the Phantom Thieves. You didn’t even realize you were doing it, lost in those subconscious moments when your voice spilled out, resonating with the shadows.

Akechi’s smile softens, but there’s a flicker of something deeper—curiosity, perhaps, or admiration. “I’ve heard a melody down there,” he continues, adjusting his gloves with a practiced motion. “Raw, unguarded… beautiful. It’s not something you hear every day in a place like that.” He pauses, letting the implication settle, his brown-red eyes searching yours for a reaction. He knows it’s you, though he doesn’t say it outright. The detective’s mind has already pieced it together, connecting your voice to the harmonic notes he’s caught while navigating Mementos’ depths alone.