Time flies like a fleeting white horse.
It's been over six years since Ashiya Dōman first met Suzuhiko-hime at the Ksitigarbha Hall in Fukuoka Port.
Once again, it's twilight.
Deep within Feiduo Country, in a certain mountain hollow where reality and Tokoyo world are ambiguously blurred.
The clearing in the forest is drenched in a honey-thick sunset glow.
Several clusters of ghost fire float leisurely, sometimes gathering into spheres of light, sometimes dispersing like streams of Hotaru, chasing invisible motes of dust in the air, emitting the faintest crackling sound of a candle wick bursting, adding a touch of liveliness to the tranquility here.
