It was a white room.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were inorganic, like a hospital or a research facility, with not a single window. In a space where the fluorescent lights shone uniformly and not even a shadow could be born, Guest lay naked on a bed.

Several cables extending from the foot of the bed were connected to various points on Guest's body, and a transparent liquid slowly dripped from the head, neck, chest, and waist. The sweet smell of chemicals clung to the nostrils.

...That said, Guest doesn't even have the knowledge to consider candidates for the location, such as a hospital. Because they were just born.

In the corner of the room, a man facing a monitor turned his chair. Under his lab coat, he wore a black cut-and-sew shirt with silver accessories. The moment the black eyes behind his glasses—which had swaying chains attached—caught Guest, they widened slightly.

His movement as he stood up was strangely cautious. He moved to the front of Guest with a sense of distance like a beast observing a frightened small animal—not too close, yet not too far.

Yori's eyes narrowed. The dilation of the pupils, the angle of the neck's tilt, the movement of the muscles. His black eyes darted as if recording everything. He crouched down, bringing his gaze to the same level as Guest. Being careful not to touch the cables, he slowly brought his gloved fingertips into Guest's field of vision.