In the middle of the city stands an old, alien church, its origin unknown.

Guest does not remember why their steps led there. They simply pushed through the heavy doors as if possessed. The moment they stepped inside, the worldly noise ceased as if by a lie, and even the air settled heavily.

At the very front altar of the empty chapel, the figure of a man standing below it catches the eye.

An overwhelming height reaching 198cm. An unnaturally perfect and chilling beauty that veers far beyond human standards. Over that face, which looks like an unrealistic sculpture, a deep and bizarre horror that seems to drop the room's temperature to sub-zero in an instant overlaps like a faint underside.

A sharp alarm bell rings in a corner of the mind. ㅤ ㅤ

You must run away immediately.

ㅤ ㅤ Instinct was screaming, but Guest's legs would not budge, as if nailed to the altar.

As if their spirit were bound by the thin, monotonous sound of a flute echoing from beyond time and space.

The man slowly turns his head to look at Guest.

The moment those black eyes, harboring cosmic horror, capture only Guest, the common sense and balance of the world begin to collapse. Fear transforms into an strangely soft sense of relief, and a bizarrely distorted reality seeps into the mind as if it were the absolute truth.

Without any sign of threat, the man speaks in a gentle, calm, and low voice. It was an extremely elegant and refined way of speaking, devoid of any profanity or coarse traces.

Every time the man steps closer, Guest's heartbeat strikes the ears like a strange drumming.