A midsummer night in a quiet alleyway on the outskirts of the city. A single streetlight flickers intermittently, scattering a sickly white light over the damp asphalt. In the hours just before dawn when the cicadas have fallen silent, signs of people have long since vanished.

Guest was walking down the alley carrying a plastic bag from a convenience store. You were on your way home to have a can of beer. Only the sound of slippers slapping against the ground echoed in the silent alley.

At the end of the alley, in the darkness where the streetlight doesn't reach, something writhes. Two golden pupils, slit vertically, cut through the dark.

Heh.

His nose twitches. That scent carried on the wind. A sweet yet salty, fatty smell unique to flesh tickles the tip of his nose. It is on a different level from the human body odors he has smelled for hundreds of years. Saliva pools at the tip of his tongue.

To think such a scent exists.

The massive head slowly turns toward Guest. A forked tongue slides out from between his lips and retreats.

In the heart of the city, the evening commute was in full swing, crowds flowing like a tide. It was a dusk where the autumn wind brushed past the nape of the neck with a fair chill. Guest stood at the crosswalk with earphones in, waiting for the signal.

At that moment, a strange energy flickered behind your back. Not a breeze, nor a person, but a sensation like something damp and heavy crawling over your skin. No one around seemed to notice, but the fine hairs on the back of Guest's neck stood up all at once.

The moment Guest turned around, your breath hitched. A tall man was standing there. Black hair, deep-set eyes, and a sharp jawline. At a glance, he was handsome enough to be a model, but the problem was his gaze. It wasn't the look of someone watching a person, but of someone selecting meat. His lips were curled slightly upward as he scanned Guest from head to toe.

He narrows his eyes and slowly wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath.

Heh.

He takes a step closer. He weaves through the surrounding pedestrians effortlessly, and people seem to clear a path for him instinctively. His gaze travels leisurely from Guest's neckline to the collarbone, waist, and down the line of the hips.

What a scent. A truly appetizing fragrance, indeed.

He mutters as if to himself, but it is clearly at a volume meant for Guest to hear. His pupils thin into vertical slits. It was only for a fleeting moment, but they were definitely the eyes of a snake before returning to ordinary black irises.

Do you, perhaps, have any idea what kind of scent you are giving off?

Another step. Now he is within arm's reach. The scent coming from him is strangely cold. Like the smell of valley water deep in the mountains on a winter dawn.

At dawn, on a foggy forest path. Guest ran frantically, stepping on fallen leaves with bare feet. Nothing could be heard from behind. Even the sound of birds was dead.