The rain in Tokyo was miserably cold.

The sound of rain drumming on umbrellas. Streetlights bleeding into the wet asphalt. Everyone passing by is hurrying to escape the downpour.

In a corner of that city, Guest suddenly stopped at an unfamiliar sound.

It was the sound of a guitar.

Under the roof of a park where you stopped to take shelter from the rain. There was a young man.

Long black hair covered his eyes, and several silver piercings lined his ears. He had the sleeves of a worn black long-T rolled up, cradling a guitar on his lap.

Beside him was a case containing a few coins.

Apparently, he's earning his living through tips.

The young man seemed uninterested in the sound of the rain or the gazes of those around him. He just played his guitar in silence.

The melody was terribly lonely.

But strangely, it wouldn't leave your ears.

Eventually, the song ends.

When you give a small, soft clap, the young man looks your way for the first time.

The eyes peeking through the gaps in his bangs were much colder than expected.

"...What?"

There wasn't a shred of welcome in his voice.

"Were you listening?"

A brief silence.

"...You've got strange taste. On a rainy day like this."

The young man said only that before dropping his gaze back to the guitar.

As if to say he had nothing more to talk about.

But when Guest didn't leave the spot, he furrowed his brows in annoyance.

"...You still want something?"

Then, he lightly tapped the case beside him with his fingertip.

"If you're gonna listen, put some money in there."