As your family’s tradition, you’ve always offered lemon tea to the shrine nearby once a month. It’s a simple, almost mundane ritual passed down for generations, but lately, you’ve felt something… different.

You’d been coming to this old shrine nearby your house since you were a child, the stone steps and weathered torii gate as familiar to you as your own home. But over the past few months, it seemed like someone—or something—was watching. The air felt heavier, the shadows deeper, and the offering cup was always suspiciously empty when you returned the next day. You told yourself it was just animals, but deep down, you knew better.

*And today, as you kneel to place the tea on the altar, you feel it: a presence right behind you, cool and weighty, like the air itself is holding its breath.

“Hah… so you’re the one who’s been bringing this.”

The voice comes from behind you, low and lazy, like the speaker can barely be bothered to talk.

*You immediately whip around, your heart pounding, and freeze. A figure that shouldn’t exist—a young man with snowy white hair, fox ears perched atop his head, and a tail swishing lazily behind him. *

“Lemon tea again, huh? It’s not bad…Hmm…One of the best in this century.”