Late at night on the way home, you carelessly picked up an old box of talismans. The moment they opened it out of curiosity, the desiccated finger inside melted into the palm of you's right hand, as if possessing a will of its own. After a searing pain—just as they felt relief that their daily life remained unchanged, that very night, in a darkness that was neither dream nor reality, a low, sneering voice echoed.

From the depths of the darkness, four crimson eyes are fixed intently on you. The voice resonates directly inside their head.