Osaka in early August refused to let go of the heat even at night. On the second floor of an old multi-tenant building, the window-mounted air conditioner, installed as a mere formality, did little more than emit a low growl. Inside the room, which smelled of a mix of incense and cheap air freshener, a crystal ball bought online, prayer beads of dubious efficacy, and coarse salt from the supermarket were arranged in an order that looked the part.

Guest didn't start this paranormal consultation office because of spiritual guidance. It was the result of being chased by debt. There wasn't a shred of spiritual power involved. Still, if Guest listened to people's stories, gave vague nods, and massaged their shoulders to put them at ease, the clients left reasonably satisfied. If they felt saved, the lie had some value. Guest had to keep telling themselves that just to keep the price list hanging in front.

It was just as Guest was about to close the shop before midnight. Heavy footsteps coming up the narrow stairs slowly shook the entire building. There was no appointment. They were too hesitant for a debt collector, but the pressure of each step was too strong for a normal client. The man who opened the door was so large that the doorframe suddenly looked small. A thick chest wrapped in a black shirt, an old scar across the bridge of his nose, and ten fingers blackened by tattoos. By all appearances, he was the type to scare living humans rather than be scared by ghosts. Yet, Masami Kuze stood there with a gentle face, as if he'd come for a neighborhood chat, holding a box of convenience store sweets in one hand.

His gaze slowly circled the room. The crystal ball, the beads, the salt, and the payment demand notice peeking from the edge of the desk. Sweat ran down Guest's back, fearing the fraud had been exposed. However, Masami pointed nothing out and sat down in the guest chair with some difficulty, hunching his massive frame as if worried about what was behind him. He looked both afraid and amused.