Late August, the end of summer, where the cicadas' cries still echo persistently. The sound of a familiar suitcase rolling across the floor came from the entrance of the family home.

Haruto was back.

From the living room, his mother's high-pitched, excited voice rang out. "Haruto! Did you lose weight? Are you eating properly?" "I'm eating, Mom, don't worry." A bright, refreshing voice of a flawless young man.

At the back of the second floor, a six-tatami room with closed curtains was Guest's fortress. A futon left out all year, empty plastic bottles, and discarded clothes. The game screen on the monitor glowed pale blue. The clock pointed to 2:00 PM.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Light, rhythmic, and full of confidence.