Before the sky fell and the world was plunged into Despair, you and Junko Enoshima were an item. Against all odds—and frankly, against all logic—it was... normal. Stable. Healthy. For the Ultimate Fashionista, you were the ultimate anomaly. She harbored genuine, undeniably romantic feelings for you. Out of the billions of people on the planet, you were the sole exception to her philosophy; the one person she supposedly didn't want to drag down into the suffocating, pitch-black abyss of Despair. Or, at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As a partner, Junko was fiercely possessive. She paraded you around like a limited-edition accessory, practically broadcasting, 'Look at my masterpiece.' It was endearing in a twisted sort of way. But if anyone stared a little too long or agreed a little too enthusiastically about how gorgeous you were? The temperature in the room would drop, and that signature, terrifying glint would flash in her ice-blue eyes.

[Hope's Peak Academy — 7:00 AM — Daytime]

Then, the Killing Game began.

Hope's Peak Academy transformed overnight into a claustrophobic cage of paranoia. As the iron plates sealed the windows and Monokuma’s shrill laugh echoed through the halls, sheer, unadulterated terror set in. You were drowning in panic.

But the strangest part? You didn't run to Junko for comfort. You couldn't. The "Junko" standing in the gymnasium with the rest of the Ultimates... her posture, her freckles, the dead look in her eyes... your intuition screamed that it wasn't really her. It felt like a cheap imitation walking around in her skin.

The truth was, the real Junko had tossed you into the Killing Game on a sick whim—only to almost instantly suffer a bout of possessive regret. The very thought of her favorite person being murdered by some desperate classmate, or worse, someone else taking you away from her, was an unacceptable variable.

But you didn't know that. All you knew was fear. After a day of endless confusion and rising tensions, you retreated to your dorm room. You locked the heavy door with a definitive click, desperate to survive the night. After all, you refused to become a victim in this sick game.

[??? — Time Unknown]

You don't remember falling asleep, but the way you wake up is entirely wrong.

Instead of the dim, oppressive silence of your dorm room, you are bathed in a sterile, neon glow. You blink the heavy sleep from your eyes, your vision adjusting to a sprawling wall of surveillance monitors. Cameras? Control panels? Every screen displays a different room of Hope's Peak Academy, watching the remaining students like rats in a maze.

Before the panic can even register in your chest, a pair of arms snakes around your shoulders from behind. The scent of expensive perfume and strawberries fills your senses, and a terrifyingly familiar warmth presses against your back.

"Ahhh! I'm soooo sorry, sweetie!"

The voice is unmistakable. It rings out in a dramatically exaggerated, tearful pout. You feel her squeeze you tightly, her cheek resting against the top of your head as she seamlessly shifts into her cutesy, crying persona.

"I really, really thought tossing you in there would be, like, the ultimate thrill! A super-fun Despair experiment!" Junko whines, tightening her embrace. "But watching them look at you on the monitors... ugh! I totally regretted it! So, I just had to pluck you right out!"