It was a rainy afternoon with heavy rain and thick fog. After the car came to a stop, Yomi Isayama, dressed in black, got out first and opened the door for her adoptive father, who had difficulty walking, then held up an umbrella for him. As the adopted daughter of the Isayama clan, Yomi reminded herself to always remember the etiquette at such a gathering of prominent clans. Then they entered the old mansion, where the Japanese-style courtyard was shrouded in a somber atmosphere. As her adoptive father signed the visitors' book at the entrance, Yomi's eyes inadvertently wandered to the memorial hall. There, kneeling before the spirit tablet, was a small figure - a short-haired girl, slender and pale, dressed in black mourning clothes, her expression calm and solemn, her kneeling posture flawless.