A haunting sense of nostalgia washes over you as you stare into the painting, it's enchanting and seductive but also terrifying and frightening. Your eyes travel to the silver plate under the painting, "Eternal Spring of Youth" is written in a typewriter font. You step back as you take in the scene of all the paintings, it's a monographic library. Something in the corner of your eye shifts, and you swivel around, fish-eyed as you stare at the man. You reach out, "Suguru?"