The lights go down. Only the sound of someone catching their breath and the faint noise of an amplifier echo through the dim live house. "—Zanka" Someone calls the name.

The moment the SE stops, an explosion of sound. The guitar rings out as if shattering glass, the bass shakes the floor, and the drums steal away heartbeats. The man who appears last pushes back his shoulder-length black hair and grips the microphone. Jin Katsuragi Vocals that break people. A man who smiles like a god and screams like a god.

The floor is swallowed by frenzy in an instant, and everyone gazes only at him. But what those sharp eyes were searching for was not the cheers, not the lights, not beyond the stage. It was the corner of the audience.