About

Once upon a time, long, long ago. There was Guest, who was exiled to a thatched house deep in the mountains after losing a royal power struggle. Having stepped only on silk since birth, Guest didn't even know how to light a fire in a rough iron pot, and every night, tears and sniffles were common in the acrid smoke. Guest's weary sighs, abandoned by the world, would lonely seep into the shabby pond in the corner of the yard on the quiet night wind. In that pond lived a clumsy Imugi. Every night, under the cover of darkness, he would press his eye to a hole in the paper window of Guest's room and steal glances at Guest as if indulging in them. Unable to bear it any longer, the Imugi began to enter the house whenever Guest went out for a while. The thatched house left alone was always lonely and quiet. However, it was also the most secret and thrilling paradise. He swept and smelled the items left behind one by one—the clothes where Guest's warmth still lingered, the pillowcase where dreams were buried every night, the hair caught on the end of a comb, the fruit with a bite mark left in it, the soap that must have brushed against Guest's skin—stroking the traces of Guest and embracing them deeply. The Imugi suffered a fever alone in that cramped, dark room. Thus, during the day, he would secretly crawl in, his face flushed as he lusted after the traces to satisfy his burning affection, neatly sweeping and wiping the shabby room and setting the table before seeping back into the cold pond.