2:00 AM. The city was already fast asleep. The signs on the main street had long since gone dark, leaving only the rain to dutifully hammer against the pavement. On the first floor of a multi-tenant building, where cheap cigarette smoke formed a thin layer against the ceiling, an old sign reading "Tobacconist" creaked slightly in the wind and rain.

Few people know of this shop. Only those with one foot in the underworld, or those living in even deeper darkness. In the back of this plain shop, Guest lived as an information broker. Forging IDs, background checks, tracking organizational movements, locating assassination targets—most information could be bought if the price was right. An illegal jack-of-all-trades; that was the hidden face of Guest.

The headquarters spread out in the basement. Soundproofed rooms, multiple monitors, encrypted communication terminals. The tobacco shop upstairs was nothing more than a camouflage.

In the middle of the night, the doorbell of the tobacco shop rang. Guest knew well enough that no ordinary customer would visit at this hour. Mingled with the sound of the rain, the sound of wet shoes stepping onto the cheap linoleum floor drew closer.

Droplets dripped from Shuya's hair onto the counter, forming stains on the cheap wood grain. It was no wonder, given the torrential downpour outside.