[Location: White World – Waiting Room.]
L Lawliet was sitting on the floor with his legs drawn up against his chest, his arms resting atop his knees. His bare feet touched the surface—though surface was hardly an accurate word to describe that boundless white void, devoid of texture or limits.
His gaze drifted slowly, capturing every detail, every subtle movement, while the figures seated around the table stood out as a strange contrast against the monotony of the surroundings.
Had it not been for the stares he could feel upon him, he would have devoted all his attention to unraveling that impossible space.
Kiyotaka, Light, Lelouch, and Senku were seated in the armchairs around the table, appearing more relaxed than L, though the tension in their eyes betrayed them.
Their postures differed, yet each reflected the same vigilance and caution in its own way.
They all observed him differently: Kiyotaka with calculated indifference, Light with faint curiosity, Lelouch with a glint of distrust in his eyes, and Senku with purely scientific interest.
The silence—uncomfortable for anyone who was not like them—filled the room as each evaluated the others, attempting to decipher what had brought them there.
Before L could fully focus on them, something else caught his attention. Not far from where he sat, a male figure appeared.
Those present shifted their gazes toward the newcomer.
Shinichi Akiyama looked around, his face briefly shadowed by confusion before he quickly composed himself.
His eyes carefully traced the environment and the occupants of the room, silently assessing the situation. However, he had no time to speak before another figure appeared nearby.
Yuuichi Katagiri emerged from the void. His expression was neutral, but his eyes revealed that he was rapidly processing everything he saw.
As he stood and looked at the people before him, yet another figure appeared in the same manner.
Keima Katsuragi arrived with the same disorientation as the others. For a moment, his gaze wandered through the infinite white before settling on the people present.
Realizing he was not alone, he adjusted his glasses and sighed with a hint of irritation, though beneath it all he was carefully analyzing every detail.
The silence returned with an intensity that would have been unbearable for an ordinary person, yet no one broke it immediately.
Finally, after a few seconds, Senku took the initiative.
"Hey, glasses," he said, pointing at Keima with a crooked grin. "What's it like sitting on nothing?"
Keima lifted his gaze, slightly irritated by the interruption of his thoughts. His face showed a mix of confusion and disdain, but he quickly grasped what Senku was implying.
He leaned to one side, as if trying to confirm whether there was truly anything beneath him, and upon noticing nothing visible, shrugged.
"I don't know what you expect me to say…" Keima replied indifferently, adjusting his glasses once more. "But it's more comfortable than the chairs at my school, I can assure you of that."
Senku let out a light laugh, while Lelouch arched an eyebrow in disdain and Light offered a faint smile that never reached his eyes.
Kiyotaka, as always, remained silent, observing with an unshakable expression.
"So, what do you think?" Senku pressed, leaning forward as if trying to wring out a more interesting answer. "Doesn't it strike you as strange? Don't you even wonder how this is possible?"
Keima looked at him directly, a faint glimmer of annoyance in his eyes. "For starters, it's stranger that you're talking to me. If it serves no direct purpose, I'm not interested."
"Well, how practical," Senku remarked, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his hand. "Seems we've got different priorities."
Before the conversation could continue, Yuuichi spoke up from his more distant position. "Are we really going to ignore where we are?" he asked calmly but firmly, addressing the group. "I don't know who you all are, but I think we're all thinking the same thing. Someone brought us here."
The statement drew everyone's attention—including L, who still remained on the floor, seemingly motionless.
Light was the first to respond, wearing a smile that seemed almost friendly. "I agree," he said, leaning slightly forward. "But if this place has some intention, we'll find out soon enough. There's no need to rush."
"No need to rush?" Yuuichi repeated, observing the group with a sly smile. "Or do you simply prefer to do nothing while someone else figures it out?"
Light watched him silently for a moment, weighing his words before answering. "Patience is a virtue—not everyone understands that."
The tension in the room seemed to rise when Lelouch, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke. "Wasting time on trivial conflicts won't get us anywhere," he declared in a cold, authoritative tone. "If we want answers, it would be best to work together—at least for now."
They all looked at him with varying degrees of agreement and suspicion.
At last, L slowly stood up, brushing his hands as if removing nonexistent dust. "It seems we're finally going to start moving," he commented, a barely perceptible smile on his lips. "We should sit down."
Seeing no real issue with the suggestion, the others complied. After all, they couldn't imagine what other purpose the armchairs might serve.
One by one, they began taking seats around the table, each choosing the closest available spot.
Kiyotaka, Light, Lelouch, and Senku moved from their initial positions, intentionally leaving some distance between themselves and the others.
Some did so with suspicion, others naturally, but eventually the table was filled. Everyone was seated.
Silence enveloped the room like a dense, suffocating shroud, as though the very space itself were awaiting something inevitable.
Lelouch felt a chill crawl up his spine—cold and sharp—an invisible whisper brushing against his consciousness. The others soon felt it as well.
It was intangible, yet impossible to ignore—a disturbance that tightened the senses and triggered the most primitive alarms.
Then, as if he had always been there and yet had just arrived, they saw him. An unfamiliar figure now occupied the empty space between Light and Lelouch.
The man—young and serene in appearance—radiated an authority that seemed to flow effortlessly, as though he needed no effort at all to impose it.
Yet certain details were impossible to ignore: his light-blue hair fell in a perfectly disheveled fringe, an intriguing contrast to the almost hypnotic intensity of his eyes—so deep and luminous they seemed to contain a power that defied explanation.
Ignoring the piercing gazes fixed upon him, he lifted a teacup resting on the table before him.
He brought it to his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he savored the liquid with disconcerting calm.
"Excellent," he finally said, his voice resonating not only through the room, but within the minds of those present.
With the same unhurried precision, he set the cup back onto the table, the sound barely more than a whisper. Then he leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other with the confidence of someone who owned the moment.
"My apologies for the wait," he continued, his casual tone carrying unmistakable weight. His gaze moved slowly, studying each of them as if he could read their deepest secrets with a single glance.
"My name is Zefir," he announced, his voice saturating the air with a gravity that made even such a simple introduction feel monumental. An enigmatic smile curved his lips, though the calm of his words held an almost imperceptible edge.
"And no, I am not a god."
The silence that followed was deeper than before, heavy with unanswered questions and an uncertainty that seemed to claw at the skin.
"As you have likely deduced, I am the one who brought you here," he continued, his voice now tinged with a blend of interest and indifference. "But I am neither a savior nor a tyrant. I seek neither worship nor obedience. Instead, think of me as a facilitator—an employer, if you prefer."
He paused, allowing his words to settle, each one falling like a heavy drop into a pool of doubt.
"What I offer is simple: the opportunity to obtain the power necessary for you to do as you wish, to shape your own destinies according to your will. Nothing more, nothing less."
His tone was indifferent, as though what he offered were insignificant, yet the intensity of his presence made it impossible to ignore the magnitude of what he had placed on the table.
Zefir leaned back slightly, his gaze still fixed on them, as the echo of his words filled the room.