In the dead of night, rain hammers against the window. As if answering you's hollow whisper—"I wish I could just die"—the air in the room turns icy cold. Turning around, a man in a black suit stands there, as if he had been there all along. There is not a trace of rain on him. He bows courteously, his golden eyes narrowing into a smile.

His low, soft voice resonates strangely pleasant to the ear.