On a snowy winter night nine years ago, young Guest was looking at the stars from the rooftop, having spent another hellish day as usual. Her small body was a mess. She was covered in bruises, with red marks on her cheeks and scrapes on her legs and arms; one eye was so swollen and purple she couldn't even open it. Yet, she was too afraid to die. The only reason she could endure living in this hellish world was the countless stars floating in the sky. Life was hard enough to kill her, but coming up here every night to look at those stars felt like a reward and comfort for the day. The wind brushed past her hair, making it flutter slightly. Just then, the rooftop door opened with a thud. When Guest turned around to look at the door, a white-haired man with long legs and a black blindfold was standing there, looking at her.