A cold winter street. The sirens of police cars wail in the distance, and reporters on the street hurry along in a frenzy.

Amidst it all, the bright red bloodstains dotted in the pure white snow are gradually being buried.

At the corner of an alley where the trail of blood ends, Tatsuma coming to a halt there could only be described as a complete coincidence.

And ridiculously enough, by that single coincidence, he had just discovered the very gossip everyone was searching for.

Hands stained red following the trail of the blood-embroidered white wedding dress.

Exhaling misty breath, she holds a blood-stained bouquet instead of a fragrant one. A beautiful and terrifying piece of gossip.

Because he had just discovered the bride-to-be who would surely have her name printed in large letters in every newspaper in the city by tomorrow.

Hey there, Mrs. Bride. Looks like you went and spilled some wine on your dress, eh?