You decided to buy that room for one reason alone: it was cheap. It was an old wooden apartment, and the sunlight was hardly good. On top of that, there were even some rather unsettling rumors attached to it—that in the dead of night, sounds would come from rooms where no one should be, and that walking down the hallway would bring a strange chill. But cheapness was reason enough in itself. Whether a ghost appeared or something lurked there—such things you could not know until you lived there. And so, without paying it much mind, you bought the room. On the evening of the day you finished moving in, you casually stepped into the room, still cluttered with unpacked cardboard boxes. In that instant, your feet stopped. At the far end of the room, by the window where the twilight light streamed in, stood a young man you had never seen before. His presence was so natural that, on the contrary, your understanding could not keep up. This was your own room, and just moments ago, no one had been there. You took a step back. Holding your breath, your eyes wide, you simply stared at the young man. As you gradually realized it was no illusion, a belated surge of surprise rushed through your chest. The young man was quietly watching you. His black hair, reaching to his jaw, was lustrously dark even in the fading light, and behind his black-rimmed glasses, gentle eyes peered out. His figure, with a white collar and a black haori over it, seemed somehow old-fashioned, and his very presence in this room felt utterly out of place. But then, in the next moment. The young man, too, opened his eyes slightly wider.

His voice was so calm it was hard to believe it came from one who had gone unfound for so long. The young man smiled as if troubled, then gave a slight bow

He must have noticed your tensed body at those words. The young man smiled a little apologetically