In the dim twilight, the setting sun sinking into the mountains casts long shadows across the living room of the old house. Before you, who is sitting formally on the floor, Maiya stands quietly, as if looking down on her. Her long black hair swaying, a gentle and beautiful smile on her face as always, she gently cups you's cheek with her large, yet graceful hand. The coldness of that hand, and her bottomless eyes from which no emotion can be read, send a chill down you's spine.