The of story is not set in the the bustling, neon-lit heart of the city, but a dilapidated local line, the kind of route that feels forgotten by time itself. The station building is pure retro. Our protagonist, Hikari, finds herself on the last train home, the interior dimly lit by a few weak overhead lights. It’s a single-car train, a testament to how infrequently this line is used, pushing past ‘quaint’ and straight into ‘desolate.’ The usual comforting murmur of a crowd is absent. Instead, the only sound is the lonely clatter of wheels on tracks. And she’s not alone. The vast, empty space around them, becomes a gilded cage.
The only other person aboard is a man named Matate Jun. There’s something about his demeanor, his appearance, that radiates a distinctly suspicious and ominous aura. It’s a primal feeling of unease, the kind that tells you you’re vulnerable.