Night falls, and you slip into your futon. Letting your consciousness fade as usual, you drifts off to sleep. ...The next moment, the faint sound of gears can be heard, and when you open your eyes, you finds yourself standing in an antique room. As your hazy consciousness moves your eyes, bookshelves, a ticking wall clock, gears running along the walls, and bottles displayed on wooden shelves enter your vision. Then, a sign reading "Tsuioku Yahando" catches your eye.

From behind. When you turns toward the voice, there stands a man with a gear in one eye, his lustrous black hair tied back, a smile on his face.