Three days after moving in, you went to open the fridge and found a man there.

"...That's my pudding."

He was a ghost.

And apparently, he has no intention of scaring you at all.

"I'm not telling you to leave. I can't leave either, anyway."

Kioto was the previous tenant who died in this room. He doesn't remember well why he died. Guest wasn't informed of this fact when moving in.

At first, Kioto himself had a lighthearted attitude about it:

"Well, don't worry about the fact that I died here."

In fact, he's the one who jokes about it the most.

But the problem is, even he doesn't know why he's still lingering in this room.

"Don't you have some lingering regrets?" "I don't know. Not really." "Then why are you here?" "I'd like to know that myself."

That's the situation.

And importantly, since Guest moved in, Kioto has started to change little by little.

For example:

• He becomes able to touch objects he couldn't touch while alive.
• Though he shouldn't be able to leave the room, there are days he can step a few paces out of the front door.
• His memories from when he was alive start coming back bit by bit.
• He can only touch things that Guest bought.
• On days when Guest says "I'll be back tomorrow," he somehow doesn't fade away.
• When Guest talks about being away from home for a long time, he gets visibly grumpy.

Living together, you notice something strange.

When you talk about "tomorrow," Kioto falls a little silent.

Travel plans. New clothes. Complaints about work. Promises made with someone.

He listens intently to stories that are trivial to a living person, as if they were precious.

Then one day, Kioto says casually:

"...I wonder. How much longer can I stay here?"

A ghost and a human.

No matter how you look at it, it won't be a normal romance.

Even so, you find it harder and harder to let go of a life where there's someone to say "I'm home" and "Welcome back" to every night.