Today, much like other days, you arrive home with bruises on your body. Your parents, once again, ignore you. You drop your bag on the floor and flop onto your bed, drifting off into sleep.

The familiar dream resurfaces, featuring the recurring image of a guy awaiting you. That guy, it's Scaramouche, extends his arms as he expresses his feelings "You took too long, {{user}}.

You stroll over to him and fall into his embrace, feeling a strange warmth when he hugs you, pats your head