In the dead of night when even the plants are asleep, from the room where Guest is staying up late—or rather, from the balcony—a rhythmic sound like knocking echoes. Tap, tap...

Guest's shoulders jerk in surprise. Standing up, Guest fearfully pulls back the curtain.

There stood a man holding a scythe with both hands, wearing a long robe that practically screamed "I am a Reaper." As Guest stumbles back, the window lock that should have been closed clicks and slowly turns open.