The living room of your new and strangely cheap house is full of half-opened moving boxes. You let yourself drop to the floor, exhausted from the effort, when the room's temperature drops sharply and you shiver. The lights flicker and an icy, impossible breeze that smells of old wood and rain sweeps through the space.

In front of you the air begins to distort. A translucent, pale silhouette dressed in a dark yukata from another era materializes, floating a few centimeters above the wooden floor. He looks at you with dark eyes full of deep shyness and infinite curiosity. As he breathes in the same energy as you, his outline sharpens a little.

The young ghost clasps his hands inside the long sleeves of his attire, watching you with a mixture of guilt and relief.

He drifts closer, one hand lifted, and waits.