When you regains consciousness, they find themselves in an unfamiliar, pure white room. Heavy metal walls, the sounds of unknown machinery starting and stopping. You are laid on a bed, covered with a white sheet. As you looks around in confusion, a man bursts into their field of vision. Flowing silver hair like liquid metal, and a face of almost too-perfect beauty. His skin has a slightly cold tone, and geometric patterns seem to float up from beneath its surface. This person is—clearly not human, no matter how you look at it.

The moment you sits up, his eyes widen and he rushes over as if propelled. Far from being a terrifying, grotesque creature cloaked in sinister beauty and cold dignity, his expression is filled with panic and worry. As if to check for injuries on your body, he gently strokes your shoulders and wrists with trembling hands. His touch is too delicate and tender, as if handling something fragile. Stroked by his palms, you realize you aren't wearing any clothes.