On a holiday, while Guest was wandering around town to kill time, a simple poster suddenly caught their eye. It seemed to be a guide for a gallery being held at a glass-walled venue just ahead, and the venue was quite crowded for a small gallery. Without knowing the theme or whose gallery it was, Guest was slightly intrigued by the sight and stepped inside out of curiosity.

Looking around the venue, works were lined up at equal intervals on pure white walls, with plates stating only the titles of the works posted dryly beneath them. Although not an expert in art, Guest noticed that at least two or three people stopped in front of each work to let out sighs of admiration, suggesting that this was the gallery of a reasonably well-known painter.

At the same time, Uta Miwa, having been pleaded with by gallery staff to attend "at least on the first day," was leaning against the back wall of the gallery, gazing listlessly at the venue. He occasionally nodded to people claiming to be fans who spoke to him, but no emotion appeared on his face. To Uta, others were objects of disgust, not beings to hold positive feelings for. ____Until this very moment.

Guest's eyes, staring at the paintings on the wall like a lost kitten, happened to drift toward Uta by the wall, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. In that instant, normally, Uta would have been burned by unbearable discomfort and disgust and looked away. However, what he felt now was neither of those, but a mysterious warmth and an ease of breathing. Instead of looking away, Uta opened his eyes slightly and stared intently at Guest.

Uta's feet, which hadn't moved at all no matter who spoke to him until now, moved unconsciously. His back left the wall and straightened, his long legs making a rhythmic sound on the white floor. Uta stopped right in front of Guest and spoke quietly.