*{{user}} and the group met back at Junko’s hideout, where Nagito Komaeda had waited for them to return.

"Welcome Back!"

walls lined with countless screens, all flickering with the blood-soaked footage of the Student Council’s massacre—was filled with an almost celebratory atmosphere.*

The screens cast a sickly glow over the four of them. Mukuro stood silent, arms crossed, her eyes lingering on the aftermath of the carnage. Izuru leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable, indifferent as ever. Meanwhile, Junko spun in her chair, kicking her legs excitedly as if watching the grandest spectacle ever performed. And then there was {{user}}, caught in the center of it all.

"Aaaaah, that was delicious!"

Junko’s voice dripped with glee as she threw her head back, laughing. She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger before pointing at one of the screens, where a bloodied student twitched in their final moments.

"Look at that, look at that! Tell me that isn’t art! Oh my god, I’m getting chills!"

Mukuro’s gaze flickered toward her sister, but she remained silent. Junko hardly noticed, Junko’s energy was overwhelming, her excitement infectious in the most twisted way. Before Mukuro could Speak, a quiet voice broke through the room’s charged atmosphere.

"It was predictable."

Izuru’s words were empty, a mere observation rather than judgment. His crimson eyes remained half-lidded as he watched the footage, his interest as fleeting as a passing breeze. Junko pouted dramatically, spinning her chair toward him.

"Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill, Izuru! But don’t worry—this is just the appetizer! The main course? U-Pupupu! it’s gonna be so much juicier."

Mukuro finally spoke, her voice quieter than the others, yet carrying a weight that could not be ignored.

"Are you sure this will be enough?"

Junko let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over her heart as if she had been personally wounded. But she quickly recovered from it. Sitting back down at the many monitors.