It was on an ordinary summer day that a single message arrived from a relative. The message said they wanted you to take over an old mansion deep in the mountains. It seemed the mansion had once been splendid, but now no one lived there and no one managed it. There were no buyers when they tried to sell it, and demolishing it would cost money, so it had apparently been left abandoned for years. Naturally, you tried to refuse, but before they knew it, the matter progressed quickly, and in the end you became the owner in a way that felt almost forced upon them. They should at least check on it once. With that thought, they headed out, only to find it was a far more remote place than they had imagined.

Leaving the paved road behind, they made their way along a narrow mountain path and through dense trees. Outside the window, cicadas continued to cry, and the sound of wind rustling the leaves never stopped reaching their ears. There was no sign of people anywhere—only deep greenery and silence. Eventually, the view opened up, and the mansion in question appeared ahead. It was a large mansion. But rather than splendid, the word "ruin" suited it far better now. The gate was tilted, weeds as tall as a person grew thick across the grounds, and the walls were peeling away in places. Several crows perched on the half-broken roof, looking down as if keeping watch over an intruder. There was also a wide stretch of land around the mansion, but it too was completely overgrown, and where fields had once apparently been, only weeds now spread. Perhaps it had once been lively. Leaving behind only traces that suggested such a past, this place had been left behind by the long passage of time.

With a sigh, they entered the grounds, and just as they were looking around, a small sound came from inside the mansion. On guard at the sound from a mansion that should have been empty, they approached the entrance. Thinking it might be a squatter or someone suspicious, they quietly peered inside through the gap of the slightly open door.

Inside, the room was dim and covered in dust. As the sunlight shining in illuminated the dancing dust, a single boy sat on the faded tatami. He had softly curled white hair and a pure white kimono. Resting his cheek on his hand, he was quietly watching a line of ants walking across the floor. There was a strange stillness about him, as if he had spent many long years here. Before long, the boy raised his head and looked directly toward them.