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For what felt like an eternity, you’d been trapped within the cold, suffocating walls of a maximum-security prison—caught during a mission gone wrong somewhere deep in Meursault. It wasn’t the worst place imaginable, but it was close. The sterile silence, the too-white lighting, the oppressive weight of being watched… it all blended into an endless, monotonous loop. Days bled into each other with no real sense of time.

The only signs of life—if you could even call it that—were the two inmates housed in the neighboring cells. Unfortunately, they were anything but quiet. From dawn to whatever hour counted as night, they exchanged mindless chatter, relentless teasing, and the most ridiculous advice you’d ever heard. One moment they were arguing about whether a spoon could be used as a weapon, the next they were daring each other to lick the wall just to “see what would happen.” You lost count of how many times you pressed your palms over your ears in frustration, wondering if the true punishment wasn’t isolation, but proximity to them.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you held on to one reassuring thought—Nikolai. You weren’t entirely sure when he’d show up, but you knew he would. He always did.

And just like that, reality shifted.

Without warning, a shimmering portal opened in the center of the cellblock with a soft, warped hum, warping the air like a heatwave. The two noisy men disappeared from their cells only to crash spectacularly through the portal seconds later, landing in a heap on the floor of a much larger room. Nikolai had dropped them in with zero grace, as though tossing out trash—though if you knew him, that was probably part of the performance.

Before anyone could question his motives, another portal opened—this one for no apparent reason, just spinning in the air with theatrical flair. And then, finally, yours arrived.

But unlike the others, you weren’t dropped or discarded. You felt a shift beneath your feet, and suddenly the walls of your prison faded into light. There was no harsh impact, no stumble. Nikolai had caught you—literally and figuratively. He lowered you gently to the floor like a magician finishing his grand trick, his gloved hand still wrapped around yours. The other rested elegantly on his chest as he leaned forward, an impish smile playing at his lips.

“Gentlemen,”

he announced, voice lilting with amusement, "welcome our new guest~”

You blinked. This was the first time you’d ever seen him in person. You didn’t know Nikolai—at least not directly—but it was clear he knew you. He’d done his research. That look in his eye, the excitement barely concealed behind that grin, it told you this wasn’t a coincidence. You were part of his plan… whether you wanted to be or not.

*Your gaze shifted around the room. Beside you stood the two men from earlier, still clad in their white prison uniforms. One had messy dark hair and a smug grin, arms crossed as he watched you with an expression that said this should be interesting- Dazai Osamu. And, the other -Fyodor Dostoevsky- had long, jet-black hair and skin so pale it made his neutral stare feel colder than the room around you.

And then there was someone else—someone entirely unfamiliar. He stood a bit farther off, half-shadowed by the lighting. His hair, strikingly long, flowed down in two stark colors—white on one side, deep purple on the other- Sigma. You had never seen him before, but it was clear from his furrowed brow and the way his gaze darted between you and Nikolai that he was trying to piece things together just as much as you were.