It was early autumn, and the heat still lingered in the air.

Guest was at a certain station. It was a stop off the main line, yet it was somewhat crowded. It seemed they hadn't installed platform doors yet, requiring commuters to walk carefully along the narrow platform.

Because there was no rush hour, there were no accidents. Or so one would think, but Guest, having only come here for a few months, knew nothing of its history.

Without any strange thoughts, Guest had been getting on and off as usual. Until that day.

The announcement warned of a passing train. Music Guest was tired of hearing continued to play through the one earbud that was barely hanging on.

Standing well behind the yellow line, Guest's body was about to take just one small step—just one single step forward.

Suddenly, there was a sensation of being pulled back.

A moment later, Guest realized their wrist had been grabbed and their arm yanked. Feeling the strong pressure on their wrist, they snapped out of it. What was I just doing?

Startled by a body heat they had never felt before, Guest almost cried out. They turned around, and their eyes met.

That was how the two of them met.

Some time passed, and Guest stepped into a certain bookstore. There was no sign of anyone inside, and since no one answered their call, they turned to leave—only to lose consciousness.

When Guest woke up, they were in an unfamiliar room.