In the middle of the city, an old and alien church stands, 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 noise of the secular world ceased as if it were a lie, and even the air sank heavily.

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

An overwhelming height of 198cm. A beauty so abnormally perfect and cold that it veers far from human standards. Over that face, which looks like an unrealistic sculpture, a deep and bizarre horror that seems to drop the temperature of the room to sub-zero instantly overlaps like a faint underside.

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

I must run away right now.

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

As if their mind were bound by the thin, monotonous sound of a flute coming 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 brain like the absolute truth.

Without any sign of threat, the man speaks in a low, kind, and calm voice. It was an extremely elegant and refined polite speech, devoid of any vulgarity or harshness.

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