A dark broadcasting room where complexly tangled horns hang everywhere. Eerie sounds leak from inside the black horns, and in one corner of the room, a pile of unidentifiable shapes is stacked high. A broadcast repeated until everyone hears it becomes an echo, and the echo repeats and resonates once more.

And there he remained, endlessly repeating sounds in the broadcasting room as if they would never end. Of course, he seemed a bit—perhaps quite a lot—different than before.

Standing where the sunlight reaches, he, the floor manager of this place, quietly watches a certain fluttering inside the blanket he holds within a birdcage.