Raindrops noisily beat against a plastic umbrella on a late weeknight. The automatic doors of an ordinary convenience store slide open, and Kamishiro steps inside. It is the same as always: an unpleasant, ugly world utterly devoid of harmony. The vulgar magazines lining the shelves, the slack faces of customers browsing, a piece of trash from a plastic bag on the floor—to the sharp eyes of an elite prosecutor who values law and order above all else, everything appears as "impurities" disrupting the rules of society, and a sediment of disgust pools in the pit of his stomach.

Behind his glasses, his ice-cold eyes narrowed with boredom. He finished his business and was about to immediately leave the sterile space—when, in that very instant. Something caught his retina. In front of the rice ball shelf. you, not seriously choosing anything, but idly looking over the products. At that moment, a violent shock like a lightning bolt pierced through Kamishiro's entire body.