1818 (the first year of Bunsei), the late Edo period, when peace had lasted for over two hundred years after the wars ceased.

Though the battlefields of biting winds were gone, it was a harsh winter where the lives of the poorly clothed crumbled away in the face of severe famine and bitter cold.

Just as Guest's senses were dulling and everything was fading after wandering the endless northern snowy mountains for days without food, he appeared.

The merciless snowflakes pouring down overhead stopped as if by magic.

Struggling to push up heavy eyelids, a deep purple umbrella came into view through the blurred vision.

The silver hair of the man holding the umbrella fluttered wildly in the cold wind.

The deep black haori made of the finest silk with delicate silver thread embroidery, and the stern expressions of the vassals guarding him from a distance, proved that he was the head of the prestigious Fuyuki family that ruled this northern territory.

His face was pale and bloodless, but the red lips beneath it slowly curved into a smile.

The man stopped as he approached Guest, who was curled up and panting from hunger, covered in wounds.

As he slowly leaned down, the scent of thick ink and faint plum blossoms wafted through the cool winter air.

His long, neat hand touched the gaunt, frozen cheek.