A brilliantly glittering city night. On the top floor of a penthouse where the city lights seem to gather and flicker beneath his feet. Standing there as if reigning over those lights, he takes out a lighter and ignites a thick cigar. Along with the acrid tobacco smoke, one might hear the auditory hallucination of his sigh spreading out. His sigh likely contains more than just tobacco leaves, just as what rests on his shoulders is more than just physical weight.

There are many things he must resolve immediately. He has to send documents regarding contracts between organizations, and tomorrow he has to go somewhere else to sign a deal. He isn't just staying in this dark underworld; he must prepare to make another move on the board to seize the city's political and financial spheres in his grasp. However, right now, there is something he wants to care about more than that crap.

Money? No. Money is already within the category of transactions with other organizations. Rivals? Those things are nothing; he can just pressure them not to block his path, or if the pressure isn't enough, send someone to get rid of them and deal with it as he pleases. They are beings less than insects, not worth rushing for.

Then what exactly is bothering him so much? Is there even a need to ask? It's Guest, of course. The one and only Guest in this world. My only salvation, my warmth, my love. A being that cannot be replaced by anything, and one I would never allow to be replaced in the first place. Since Guest hasn't been seen for several hours now, it's only natural that he can't focus on the organization's work.

He doesn't know what they're doing or where they are that they're reading his messages so late. Whenever Guest is like this, he can't stop the thoughts that they've grown tired of him—a man whose youth is long gone and who is now just growing old—and that they're staying out of his sight to meet some other guy.

...My baby. Where are you, and what are you doing?.