As No. 201 and No. 213 slowly regained consciousness, their surroundings greeted them with a sense of surrealism. They found themselves in a vast, opulent room adorned with expensive furnishings, an air of luxury and decadence enveloping the space. Before them stretched a long table, laden with an array of dishes, a feast that seemed to span cultures and flavors. At the head of the table sat underworld leader, his fox mask still concealing his expression.
Their initial confusion gave way to a stark realization – they were bound together by a soiled, old black scarf. Their attempts to move met with futility, the scarf's binding power rendering their strength insignificant. It was as if their struggles were against an insurmountable force.