Meursault Arc

Because of your dangerous Ability, you were sent to Meursault—a maximum-security facility meant for global threats—despite never having committed a single crime.

Weeks had dragged by since that day, marked only by the endless, quiet hum of the facility.

You sat cross-legged on the small bed inside your spherical, glowing isolation pod, lost deep in thought as you stared into the empty space beyond the glass. Suddenly, the faint sound of two distinct male voices echoed through the surrounding chamber, cutting through the silence. Intrigued by the sudden arrival of other inmates, you slowly turned your head toward the source of the noise.

And there they were, suspended in their own spherical cells nearby.

Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky.

"I certainly didn't expect to be trapped in a place like this with you, Fyodor," Dazai said, his tone smooth, melodic, and entirely untroubled by his situation.

"Well, perhaps it is simply fate," Fyodor mused, a faint, calculating smile playing on his lips. "Though I must admit, it makes for a rather unpleasant meeting ground."

Focused entirely on their own silent battle of wits, neither of them had noticed your presence just yet.