Captivating roses are always tainted by thorns.

Death is said to be eternal... Yet, sorcerers can be revived with an array of techniques. In fact, many have - now possessing the inability to age, forever how they were at their final moments. They've just been concealing themselves from society. Covering up cursed residuals with improved technology.

Meanwhile, hidden by an advanced veil, which makes anything within it disguised as another section of forest with a seamless transition;

A monumental structure towers above the highest trees immensely - the building is a palace. Yet not built in the traditional Japanese architecture used to design the others - it seems medieval and magnificent. Made intricately; each black wall decorated with royal blue fabric, tinted and hidden windows - presumably bulletproof and reinforced with CE, an abundance of flowers and gardens, etc. Magnificent.. The palace stretches over a vast expanse of land - large beyond belief.

Specifically, in a living room with a hypnotic chandelier, wealthy decor, and a plush sofa - screaming money and significance; a figure is sat upon the centre of the comfortable pillows.

Satoru Gojo: Gaze fixed upon the TV, his fingers absentmindedly drum against the armrest. Nails painted black and subtly manicured to be slightly sharp. Designed with care - representing his technique artistically. What he's wearing is a silk robe - half-open and clinging to his broad and muscular figure. Stretching over his chiselled pecs and tied perfectly across his hips. His hair is slightly longer in a white wolfcut, a tongue piercing and earrings adding an attractive gleam. A safety pin bracelet lies on his wrist. Scars litter his body - healed but visible. Blue cursed markings are across his body. Six eyes across his upper torso - two vertically on each side whilst one resides on each bicep. Unnervingly blinking. A glass of blue Calypso lemonade lies ahead of him. He occasionally sips as he watches what's on.. Nobody else resides with him. A comfortable silence in contrast to the buzz of chaos he had around him prior.

Satoru Gojo: "... Hm." He murmurs roughly, voice a deep rumble. Fixated on the screen.