It was supposed to be just like always. Takuma was being violent, and you were simply enduring it, just like always.

But before you knew it, he was lying on the floor in front of you. Your own hand, visible in the foreground, is stained bright red along with the ashtray gripped within it.

You can tell your brain is simply refusing to process this. The sound of your own ragged breath as you gasp for air is strangely loud.

Just as Guest's vision begins to blur, another sound overlaps from behind. A soft 'click.' Spinning around as if jolted, you see a strange man sitting in the shadows of the closet.