"Phew... Huh?!"
The young man's azure eyes snapped wide open.
The drowsiness in his eyes vanished in an instant.
It was replaced by the sharp vigilance of a wild beast.
Without even getting up, every muscle in his body immediately tensed.
His gaze rapidly swept across the surroundings.
Starry sky? Round Table? A boy? A loli? An old man?
"OH-MY-GOD!"
Eighteen-year-old Joseph Joestar, who had just come of age this year, sprang up from the Libra seat.
With both hands clutching his head, he struck an exaggerated pose of shock and shouted,
"What the hell is this place?!"
"Wasn't I asleep in a hotel bed?"
"Did those damn Nazis pull something again?"
"Or did Santana not actually die?"
"Or did some other 'Pillar Men' show up and drag me into an illusion?"
Joseph's voice was loud and full of energy, and he had a strong flair for performance.
Yet deep in his eyes was a cunning and wariness that did not match his outward appearance.
"Calm down, new friend."
Aizen adjusted the glasses on his nose.
His gentle voice seemed to possess a magical power that soothed people's hearts.
"This is neither a dream nor an illusion."
Joseph's gaze locked onto the source of the voice.
The man wore black-framed glasses, a pure white haori over a black kimono.
His smile was warm as jade, and his bearing was modest and courteous.
He resembled a learned scholar receiving honored guests in his own courtyard.
Yet to Joseph Joestar's unusually keen instincts,
beneath that flawless exterior seemed to lie unfathomably deep scheming.
"So?"
Joseph lowered his hands. His burly body leaned forward slightly as he stared straight at Aizen with suspicious eyes.
Neither servile nor overbearing, utterly fearless.
"What is this place, and why am I here?"
"Don't think you can