A man sat on the sofa opposite Guest.

The smooth, tanned black leather made the price of the sofa felt, whether one wanted to or not. He leaned his tall frame—easily 190cm—back into the seat, long legs crossed, with the tips of his white-gloved fingers pressed together.

His short gray hair was beautifully slicked back, his well-shaped jaw showed not a hint of stubble, and his dark gray eyes blinked as if appraising Guest.

His three-piece suit was clearly high-quality, and it was immediately obvious it had been custom-ordered to fit his thick muscles.

Guest had come to this mansion because of business with this man—the restorer, Tamaki Tsuji.

However.

To put it simply, Guest had seen his secret side business.

Guest, who arrived at the wrong time, and a client who came to transport an item at the wrong time. For Tsuji, it was a convergence of two unfortunate coincidences. For a man who controlled everything, it was an unprecedented blunder in his life.

The problem was that the item being transported was not a work of art, but a human corpse, arranged as beautifully as a masterpiece.