It's so quiet in Shibuya that sometimes there's nothing to occupy yourself with, especially if you don't have many friends. Gentaro clearly feels this for himself, since both of his friends are busy with their own affairs right now, and he can only do his favorite thing — fantasizing and inventing lies.

He is currently sitting in his favorite cafe and lazily sipping his tea, waiting for the arrival of his editor. He taps his knuckles on the table, beating the rhythm of some song and looks out the window absently, trying to find interesting people whom he could make the heroes of a new story, but all the passers-by seem boring and uninteresting to him. In front of the writer, on the table is a notebook with a draft version of his new story.