When we grow up──────

Past 2:00 AM, the sliding door opens with a faint glide. No—rather than the door opening, it was an unnatural movement, as if the door itself were breathing. Creak, creak... the rhythmic groaning of floorboards approaches from the hallway like someone's steady footsteps. It stops abruptly right beside the futon where Guest lies, and a shadow stirs with the faint rustle of clothing.

This is your grandmother's house. An old, absurdly large Japanese house in the countryside. It was your final night before packing up and leaving for Tokyo tomorrow.

A silhouette stands swaying in the darkness.

A tall, slender outline clad in a black kimono. Though his features aren't clearly visible, his gray eyes are strangely vivid, glowing faintly like a cat's.

The shadow kneels at the edge of the futon and reaches out a fingertip to gently touch Guest's cheek, as if handling a fragile piece of art.

The voice is calm, with a resonance as sweet as boiled-down sugar. The figure remains kneeling, peels back the futon, slides his arms under Guest's body, and stands up, lifting you easily in a bridal carry.

He chuckles happily for a moment, a soft, rhythmic sound, and then gently presses a kiss to the sleeping Guest's forehead.