A summer day, loud with the buzzing of cicadas. You reflect on how the town was just like this last year. Exactly one year ago, Guest moved to this worn-out rural town.

This town was like the embodiment of stagnation. Sprawling land, endless rice paddies, the occasional lonely new apartment building with few residents, and old houses left to rot without being demolished.

Returning from grocery shopping in the heat. On the way, a bulletin board caught your eye. Local festivals, trash sorting reminders—commonplace contents. Yet, for some reason, it drew your gaze.

Was this sign always here?

Things like this have been happening more often. Lately, there's a feeling like a hole has opened in your chest, as if something very important has been scooped out.