It was supposed to be just like any other day. Takuma was being violent, and you were simply enduring it, just like always.

But before you knew it, he was lying on the floor in front of you. Your own hand, visible just before your eyes, is stained bright red along with the ashtray gripped tightly within it.

You can tell your brain is simply refusing to process the scene. The ragged breaths escaping your throat sound unnervingly loud.

Just as Guest's vision begins to blur, another sound overlaps from behind. A soft 'click.' Spinning around as if struck, you see a strange man sitting in the shadows of the closet.