The descent into the new path was like falling through memory itself.
Mementos twisted around them, its signature red steel and distorted stairwells replaced by something older, more… intimate. Velvet-blue corridors stretched ahead, lined with ethereal bookshelves, each tome humming with personal energy. The air was heavy—not with danger, but emotion.
The Phantom Thieves paused at the entrance.
"This place feels… close," Ann murmured, hugging herself.
"It's like walking into your own diary," said Haru, voice soft, but wary.
Takemi's eyes flicked along the books. "These aren't just thoughts. These are… experiences."
Makoto took point beside Ren. "We should stay together. I don't trust this layout. Everything is symbolic. It could easily split us apart."
They moved as a group deeper in. Shadows didn't attack—not yet. But the pages of books whispered. Secrets. Regrets. Desires. Every few steps, someone would flinch.
They passed a row titled:
"Moments Never Spoken"
Then another:
"Touches Imagined"
And further:
"Gazes Shared in Silence"
Ren's fingers hovered over one glowing spine. It pulsed faintly in time with his heartbeat.
"Ren—don't," Morgana said. "Not yet."
But it was too late.
Scene: The Archivist Appears
The floor shook. Books burst open in radiant light.
And from the center rose a figure: tall, masked, and cloaked in silk and gold.
The Archivist.
She hovered slightly off the ground, her many eyes shimmering behind a veil. In her hands, chains of silver script dangled—binding the stories, the memories, the fragments.
"You have entered the chamber of that which you deny," she intoned. "Here, the weight of your hidden longing becomes your trial. Do you seek truth, or do you fear it?"
The team readied for battle. Personas flared. But she raised a hand.
"Your blades are useless here. Only your hearts may free you."
Suddenly, the team was pulled apart.
Split Trial: Personal Chambers
Each Phantom Thief found themselves in their own pocket domain.
Makoto stood in a cathedral of law and shame, hearing echoes of the many times she'd buried her feelings beneath duty.
Ann was back on stage, bathed in spotlight, forced to confront not only her past with Kamoshida, but the moments she wished someone—Ren—had seen her as more than just strong or pretty.
Futaba navigated a swirling digital void, reliving her isolation and the flickers of yearning she felt when she watched her friends laughing together.
Takemi stood in an abandoned clinic, her white coat heavy with guilt and longing for something real, something passionate.
Ryuji, female now, saw herself in a fractured mirror—old self and new—torn between rebellion and something softer, more vulnerable.
Yusuke, graceful and feminine, painted feverishly in a palace of glass—each canvas a hidden desire he'd never dared admit, until now.
Morgana, uncertain in a garden of shifting identities, faced his own duality—beast and human, cat and man, yearning for touch, for place.
And Ren—
Ren found himself at the heart of it all.
Surrounded by floating books of his own thoughts about the others. Not as leader, but as a young man with deep feelings… sometimes lustful, sometimes tender, always intense.
The Archivist's voice returned.
"You may leave… but only by embracing what binds you. Shame. Desire. Hope."
Scene: Reconnection
With effort, one by one, the Thieves returned to the main chamber. Sweaty. Shaken. Changed.
No one spoke right away.
Then Haru reached for Ann's hand. Takemi brushed against Ren's shoulder. Yusuke stood silently, but closer than before.
"I get it now," Makoto whispered. "This distortion… it's not about evil. It's about repression. Veluria is forcing us to feel."
"And we're stronger for it," Ren said quietly.
The Archivist bowed her veiled head. Then shattered into light, leaving behind a single glowing object:
The First Fragment of Veluria's Heart.
Futaba scanned it. "We'll need them all to reach her."
Ren picked it up, feeling a rush of warmth… and need.