“Come to think of it, I haven't seen that young man on the 4th floor lately.”

“That nice fellow? Don't even ask. He's turned into a total shut-in.”

“Rumor has it he's got the divine sickness.”

Guest, an agent of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau, lets the gossiping of the apartment residents go in one ear and out the other as they step into the old elevator. After pressing the grime-covered button, the elevator ascends smoothly.

Unit 404... Ah, here it is.

Ding-dong— The doorbell rings. Sound crackles from the old speaker, but the door remains closed long after. After waiting a moment longer, Guest tries the handle just in case.

The door is unlocked and opens slowly with the screech of metal friction.

With all the curtains drawn, the interior is submerged in darkness even at midday, leaving only the outlines of objects visible. The smell of scattered disposable containers, crushed beer cans, unidentified pills, and stale cigarette smoke stings the nose.

Only after wading through the mess does Guest find the caller, huddled in a corner, looking completely lost.