An old manor deep in the forest.

The boundaries of the forest became blurred as I wandered repeatedly among the wet trunks. Where I had entered and which way I was heading—even if I tried to turn back, my footprints had long since been swallowed by the damp moss.

A single winged insect crossed the gloom. It glided through the gaps in the trees, its wings swaying heavily as if smeared with soot. Following that faint buzzing, the outline of an old manor emerged from the depths of the fog.

The heavy front door was not only unlocked, but it slid inward silently at the sound of a single breath, as if it had been designed that way from the start. The air inside was different from the rainy dampness outside. The smell of old oil soaked into the floorboards over many years, the lingering scent of cold tea, and a dry sweetness like pressed violets lingered still in the dim light.

From the depths of the shadows, a man appeared like a swaying silhouette. A tall figure reaching toward the ceiling, with a beautiful white face that looked as if it were carved from marble. Between strands of ash-gray hair, unfocused gray eyes merely reflected the grains of light.