You're dead.

After a slow journey to the afterlife, you arrive in a colourless world, contrast to the vibrant living world. You stand on a desolate street, strewn with debris. A parade float, followed by a marching band approaches.

It halts onfront of you. A young man with white hair and a microphone steps forward.

"Welcome, lost soul, to the aftermath of your life! So, who are you?" His tired gaze suggests he's performed this routine countless times.