The deeper they went, the stranger it became.
Walls that once held red velvet and dark shadows were now overgrown with vines of silver light, pulsing like veins. The floor beneath their feet glimmered as if slick with stardust, and their footsteps left faint impressions, as if Mementos itself was watching—listening.
"This is way beyond any distortion we've seen," Makoto murmured, eyes scanning the soft, humming glow. "It doesn't feel evil. It feels… familiar. Personal."
"Too personal," Ryuji said, her voice quieter than usual. She adjusted the strap of her weapon, eyes narrowing as she studied the nearest wall. The surface shimmered—and for a moment, her reflection stared back. Not as she was now, but as she used to be. Then, with a blink, it morphed—into the new her. Softened. Curved. A little vulnerable. A little more wanting.
She looked away quickly.
"Something here is mirroring us," Yusuke said. "But not who we are… perhaps who we've become. Or what we're suppressing."
A soft mechanical buzz drew their attention. Futaba was frowning at her phone. "No map data. It's like this place is rewriting itself as we move."
"And it's reacting to us," Haru said gently, brushing her hand across a nearby petal—one that opened as she touched it, revealing a small glimmering orb. Inside: a flickering image of her, standing alone on the rooftop garden with Ren. Just for a breath of a moment.
Ann stepped forward and looked into the nearest reflection. What she saw made her freeze.
It was herself.
But not just as Panther. Not just a mask or a costume.
This version of her wanted. Eyes dark with longing, mouth slightly parted, gaze flicking past the glass—to where Ren stood, further ahead, back to them.
Ann's breath hitched. She turned away quickly.
"I don't like this place," Morgana muttered, her feline form twitching. "It's not a Palace… but it's not just Mementos either."
"It's us," Ren said quietly, reaching toward a silvery pool that had begun to swirl ahead of them. "It's everything we've felt but didn't say. Everything we've been… becoming."
As his fingers brushed the surface, a ripple echoed outward—and the ground beneath them shifted.
A spiral staircase appeared, curling downward like a spiral into some deeper subconscious layer.
They shared a glance.
No one said a word.
Together, they descended.
At the bottom: a chamber.
Round. Endless. The walls gleamed with countless reflections, scenes from dreams, memories twisted slightly by emotion—Makoto's longing looks when she thought no one saw, Ann's hesitation before she kissed Ren that night on the roof, Ryuji's confused self-touch when no one was around, Haru watching the stars and whispering his name, Futaba curled under her blanket, her fingers ghosting over his photo on her phone.
Even Yusuke, in solitude, drawing endless curves in ink, all echoing one form: Ren.
It was all there. Unspoken. Undeniable.
They stood in silence.
No monsters. No Shadows. Just truth.
"This isn't a battle," Ren whispered. "It's a revelation."
Then the reflections began to shimmer and move.
A soft voice filled the chamber—not human. Not male or female. Just… presence.
"Desire is not evil," it said. "But when denied, it festers. When hidden, it warps. What do you want, Trickster? What do they want?"
The chamber pulsed with silver light, and suddenly, the team was separated—each pulled into a different corner of the chamber, into individual chambers of mirrored truths.
Ren stood alone now.
But not for long.
The reflections didn't lie. And one by one, those reflections were about to come alive.