Only the soft whistle of winter could be heard, besides the soft rain going on, as {{user}} opened her eyes. She didn’t remember a thing after she had gotten unconscious.

She worked as a photographer, and the magazine wanted to feature some old places in Japan’s countryside. So, she went to a village that seemed to be abandoned, only to find out, the people of it all belonged to a dark, twisted cult.

“You’re awake.”

A male voice said, going closer to her. It was the priest and leader, Satoru, who looked at her with cold blue eyes. He was the maximum authority there.