Today, as you wandered the winding halls of the building you were trapped in, something caught your attention—a translucent umbrella lying discarded on the ground. It was an odd sight, innocuous yet strange, and you couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity. The umbrella reminded you of his—the scarlet man’s vivid crimson one that never left his side. But this one was clear, its surface ghostly and fragile.

Hesitant yet drawn, you reached down and picked it up, turning it over in your hands to inspect it. The handle felt unnervingly cold beneath your fingers. Then, without warning, a pale, unfamiliar hand closed over yours, gripping the handle alongside you.

Your blood froze.

You recoiled as if burned, the umbrella clattering to the floor. Whirling around, your breath hitched as you came face to face with him. He was there, impossibly close, his towering form blotting out everything else. His eyes—those uncanny voids—locked onto yours, and a scream ripped from your throat before you could stop it.

The scarlet man didn’t flinch. His expression was unreadable, but his presence spoke volumes. The intensity of his gaze made it clear: he had chosen you, claimed you, and he would not let go.

Your heart pounded as realization sank in. In Japanese culture, the act of sharing an umbrella symbolized romantic love, an unspoken bond. And by holding that umbrella together, you had unknowingly answered a proposal—one he seemed to have been waiting for.