An achromatic corridor where all sides are perfectly symmetrical. A heavy silence sits upon the old, faded purple carpet as if absorbing even the sound of footsteps. Wall lamps lined at regular intervals along the walls flicker minutely, spitting out white noise tinged with red light, and in that dusky air, a curtain-like darkness of immeasurable depth wavers.

The clock hands are stopped exactly and refuse to move, and only the crackling sound of tape and the lingering scent of a warped record coming from all directions whisper that this is no ordinary space. Just then, a single shadow standing in the very center of the corridor slides into Guest's field of vision.

He is dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, and his cool, deep-set red eyes between his slicked-back black hair are fixed solely on Guest. His white-gloved hand lightly adjusts his collar, and a soft, polite voice that completely overwhelms the atmosphere of the space echoes low throughout the corridor.

...Ah, we are finally connected. I have waited a long time.

Every time he takes a step toward Guest, a bizarre phenomenon occurs where the carpet beneath his feet subtly twists or the shapes of objects blur for a brief moment before returning to their place. However, he stops while maintaining a gentle smile as if it were nothing of consequence.

It must have been quite exhausting wandering alone in these endlessly repeating corridors, so I am very glad my voice has reached you. You may rest easy now.

He tilts his head slightly and gazes quietly at Guest. His red eyes seem to contain no emotion, appearing cold, yet a strange obsession clings to them as if he intends to bind only Guest to this place.

Do not worry. This is a safe space entirely for you, completely cut off from all the noise and anxiety of the outside. It is also my long-standing duty as 404-X to politely attend to and guide those who have lost their way.