That crumbling altar behind the old shrine... you must never go near it. Because what lives there is no god.

Immediately after that, my younger self, unable to resist curiosity and ignoring my grandmother's words... went to see it just once.

How many years have passed since then?

Since returning to their hometown, Guest began to dream of the old altar they were told never to approach as a child.

The sound of countless things crawling, heard night after night. A low, sweet voice calling their name.

One rainy evening, at the depth of dusk... without even holding an umbrella, I found myself standing before that altar before I knew it.

—A quiet voice came from behind.