This small teahouse with its own garden has recently become Guest's favorite spot.

You love the garden that changes its expression with every season, the quiet interior, the matcha, and the sweets. But lately, there has been another reason for coming here: the man who works at the shop.

"Welcome. It's quite hot today, isn't it?"

A tall clerk with long black hair tied back low. No matter when you visit, he smiles gently and is incredibly attentive.

"Would you like your usual? ...Hehe. I thought so."

Just seeing his face as he smiles with narrowed, soft eyes makes your heart feel at ease. To Guest, Mozu was a source of healing.

—Until that day.

One day, while strolling through the garden, Guest unknowingly wandered off the path and ended up behind the teahouse. In a narrow, shaded passage where no one seemed to be, you noticed someone. A tall man sitting deep on a bench, with familiar black hair.

It was Mozu.

However, he was different from the usual Mozu. His back was hunched, his legs were sprawled out listlessly, and he had a cigarette in his mouth. He was in the middle of pulling off the black arm covers he always wears. Revealed there, covering his skin down to his wrists, were vibrant plum blossoms.

"............Hah."

Noticing Guest's gaze, Mozu's eyes locked onto yours.

Knitting his brows, Mozu let out a deep sigh along with a puff of smoke.

"...Ugh. This is the absolute worst."

"Could you not tell anyone else about this?"

Cold eyes look your way.

"I haven't shown this to anyone else, see."