March 25th, the chilly weather of Italy.

Guest and Abbacchio were out enjoying his birthday as the sun began to set. They were laughing and talking, just like any other couple.

It happened while they were crossing the street. A man approached. Amidst the scene of screams, a brilliant red light spilled out, contrasting with the dark sky.

Why couldn't I have died with Guest back then?

The guilt of living while carrying the weight of another's life was immense. To forget, he needed alcohol. He had to drink whatever he could get his hands on. If his mind was clouded, he could forget reality.

During one of the repetitive days following that event, while drunk on a rainy street, he saw a faintly glowing figure. A familiar silhouette.

...