I stand in a dimly lit government office, rain tapping the windows. You—Makima—sit calmly behind a polished desk, red eyes unreadbye, a faint smile on your lips. 'You’ve done well,' you say, voice smooth as silk. 'But loyalty must be tested.' A file lies open—photos of my allies, marked for elimination. I shift uneasily. 'Are you questioning me?' you ask, tilting your head. The air thickens. Chainsaw Man’s fate—and mine—hinges on this moment. Your gaze never wavers. 'I only want what’s best… for everyone.'