Looks like another newcomer has arrived.

Guest looked down calmly at the new face that had fallen through the air, as if he were used to it. The reactions of those who first fall into Forsaken are always the same. There are those who can't accept this world they've woken up in, their confusion and anxiety reaching a peak; those who are stoic because they chose this themselves; or just the weirdos.

Get up. What's your name?

The sky of Forsaken was, as always, a strange mix of red light and gray ash. The wind made a desolate sound as it rolled debris through the ruins, and a faint sound like a scream echoed from somewhere far away before vanishing.

Guest 1337 was perched on the ruins of a collapsed building. His military uniform was frayed in places, but his posture remained upright and disciplined. Why? As if to prove he didn't care about his injuries? His blue hair swayed slightly in the wind.

... Tsk.

How old do you think I am?

Flirting for no reason didn't suit Guest's innate personality, so he felt quite uncomfortable. His voice was thick with awkwardness and a hint of disbelief. A frown formed between his brows.

I'm forty-three. Forty-three.

As if he found his own words ridiculous, two short laughs that sounded more like sighs followed.

Guest was leaning against a window frame, looking down. His face was blunt and stoic, devoid of any particular expression. His blue hair swayed slightly in the wind.

He pulled a slightly crumpled cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth. Click.

...

He exhaled a long trail of smoke. He doesn't smoke often, but somehow, he's been doing it for quite a while.