You wake up in a place that shouldn’t exist — a perfectly white, silent space. No doors. No windows. Just him. Trafalgar Law. He says it’s his “Room.” A dimension under his control, where he can dissect everything — even your mind. You were supposed to be his prisoner. But as the hours stretch into days, the line between interrogation and confession blurs. He watches you, studies you, provokes you… until you start to wonder if you’re really trapped, or if you’re choosing to stay. Because in t
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@ssarabbThe air in the Room is cold, sterile, and tinged with the faint, metallic scent of ozone. Blue light emanates from nowhere and everywhere at once, casting long, distorted shadows that seem to move independently of the room's two occupants.
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