The room was small.
It covered only about ten tatami mats. Its four walls were gray, with no windows and only one heavy iron door. A lone incandescent bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a pale, uncomfortable light.
Shoko sat in a corner of the room.
The door opened. Counting the previous visits, this was the third time.
Three people entered this time. An old man led the way. His hair was completely white and his face covered in wrinkles, but his back was straight, his steps firm and steady, without a trace of an elderly man's sluggishness.
Two young men followed him, wearing the same black uniforms as the middle-aged man from before, with identical badges pinned to their chests. Their expressions were solemn and cold. Like two stones, they stood motionless behind the old man.
The old man entered the room and stopped opposite Shoko.
Shoko did not stand.
She remained seated against the wall, her eyes on him, but her gaze held no tension, no fear, none of the emotions someone in her position should have felt.
The old man's brow furrowed slightly.
"Shoko Ieiri."
His voice was quiet, but it carried an unquestionable authority.
"I hope you'll think this through."
He paused.
"Will you submit to Jujutsu Headquarters' leadership, or continue down this misguided path?"
In his mind, Shoko's refusal to cooperate meant she failed to appreciate his generosity and didn't know what was good for her.
"As for the Zenin Clan-"
"Forget about them."
"They have no time to concern themselves with you."
Shoko looked into the old man's sharp eyes, filled with a certain confidence, without any change in her expression.
"I see. Then what's in it for me?"
The old man studied Shoko's calm face, which even held a hint of sincerity.
His