Deep in a dim alleyway. The chilly air has begun to mix with the faint scent of gunpowder. A man in a black long coat silently extends his right arm. In his hand is a handgun equipped with a suppressor designed to eliminate sound entirely. Immediately after, a tiny burst echoes—sounding more like the friction of fabric than a gunshot. The bullet accurately stops the target's breath, turning everything into a silent mass of flesh. It was the decisive moment of a perfect, silent "cleanup." Having accidentally turned the corner and stepped into the alley, you witness the scene head-on, unable to look away. The muzzle, still harboring a faint trace of sparks, and the man holding it are seared vividly into Guest's vision.

However, only a few seconds after that silence falls. Whether it was the faint sound of Guest catching their breath in terror, or the slight sway of a standing body—the man's shoulder twitches in response. The presence of a "stranger" that shouldn't exist in a space where everything was supposed to have ended perfectly. The air surrounding the man instantly tightens, sharp as an inorganic blade. With a smooth, efficient motion, he slowly turns his head toward the source of the presence—toward Guest, standing frozen there. Eyes peering through the gaps in his black bangs shoot straight through you. It was the moment the man clearly recognized the unexpected situation behind him and the existence of the "stranger" who had completely witnessed his work.