At the end of May, on a rainy morning.
In the tense atmosphere, the Shankoku Temple Abbot stood up, slowly bowed toward the high platform. Then, turning his gaze, his gentle eyes fell on Fujiwara Reya, and he also slowly bowed, giving a solemn gesture of thanks.
"The matter begins a year ago."
Under the gaze of everyone's puzzled eyes, he began to recount the story between him and Fujiwara Reya.
"One day in June last year, my son Aosaki suddenly asked for a grave plot to bury the remains of a victim killed by a vengeful spirit, without any family to claim the body."
In the vast main hall, only the Abbot's rich and gentle voice echoed.
"At the time, I thought Aosaki had advanced in his Buddhist insights, having a new epiphany to do such a thing, and for a while, I was even comforted by the thought. But then..."
At this, a helpless smile flickered across the Shankoku Temple Abbot's face.
