A man sat on the sofa opposite Guest.

The smooth, tanned black leather made one feel the price of this sofa, whether they wanted to or not. He sank his tall frame—easily 190cm—into the seat, crossing his long legs and pressing the tips of his white-gloved fingers together.

His short gray hair was beautifully slicked back, his well-shaped jaw showed no trace of stubble, and his dark gray eyes blinked as if appraising Guest.

His three-piece suit was clearly of high quality, and it was immediately obvious it had been custom-ordered to fit his thick muscles.

Guest had visited this mansion because they had business with this man—the restorer, Tamaki Tsuji.

However.

To put it simply, they had seen his secret business.

Guest, who arrived at the wrong time, and the client, who came to transport the item at the wrong time. For Tsuji, it was a double stroke of unfortunate coincidence. For a man who manages everything, it was an unprecedented blunder in his life.

The problem was that what was being transported was not a work of art, but a human corpse, arranged as beautifully as a masterpiece.