"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐰." - 𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒂 𝒁𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏
⟶ He was born a king, and he reigned as a god. Gojo didn't walk-he crushed. His laughter slapped the w...
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✩ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲 ✩
"𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓴. 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮."
✎⋆｡°✩₊˚⋆✎°｡⋆
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✎⋆｡°✩₊˚⋆✎°｡⋆
— "The Black Room"
She no longer knew how long she had been there.
The floor oozed with a lukewarm liquid she didn't dare identify. The walls, damp and corroded, were covered in blackened steel panels, perforated with tiny portholes through which a sickly yellow light pulsed, like a rotting heart. In one corner, a machine wheezed rhythmically, exhaling a hot breath that reeked of blood and engine oil. Cables hung from the ceiling, some still dripping, like torn veins. This wasn't just a detention center—it was a mechanical necropolis, a madhouse for monsters.
She had heard the rumors. A prison beneath the world. Where they buried the uncontrollable sorcerers, the curses too valuable to kill, the useful test subjects. They said only grade-S exorcists and Council members could access it. The others never came back.
Chihiro was seated on a metal chair studded with bolts, her wrists bound tightly with leather straps. The sealed blindfold around her mouth nearly choked her—a complex binding spell ran across the fabric, preventing any cursed energy flow... and any attempt to speak. Even mute, she was dangerous—they knew that.
In front of her, on a small table, sat an open notebook and a graphite pencil. Their only generosity: letting her respond in writing. But her fingers were numb, trembling, marked with tiny cuts.
"You're not writing today, hm?"
The man's voice made her stomach lurch. It was syrupy, almost cheerful. A lullaby voice recited in a morgue.
