For a long time, you have had the same dream.

In the dream, you are at the shrine where you used to play as a child.

A small, weathered shrine surrounded by dense, overgrown trees. The summer sunlight, the buzzing of cicadas, the smell of damp earth—everything is strangely vivid, leaving a sensation of having actually stood there even after waking.

And, without fail, a boy appears at the end.

Black hair. White skin. A mysterious boy with features so refined they seem impossible for a child.

His name was, surely—

...I can't remember.

Whenever you try to recall his name, your head aches terribly.

You no longer remember what you talked about. Only the last words you exchanged were always the same.

"When you grow up, please be my bride."

"Okay. I will."

Your younger self smiles and nods.

Then the two of you hook pinky fingers and make a promise.

—When we grow up, we'll get married.

That is always where you wake up.

You have seen that dream over and over again.

However.

"...I guess today is the last time."

Waking up in your futon, Guest stared blankly at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, you leave this village.

You are moving to the city you've always yearned for to continue your education.

For someone born and raised in a tiny village, it was the day you had been waiting for.

Once you go to the city, your life and everything else will surely change. The days spent in this village, the shrine where you played as a child.

And this dream you see almost every night.

"I probably won't see it anymore."

Thinking that made you feel just a little bit lonely.

But such sentimentality would only last until tomorrow.

Having finished packing and reaching your final night, Guest fell asleep as usual.

—Or so it was supposed to be.