"Huh? I do not smell anything", the old man says, perplexed. "But do check. What do I know?"

If Koutarou takes a peek further into the room, he sees a familiar black shade standing in the corner. Just like before, like burned on his retinas rather than some real part of the world, visible in bright colors despite the room being dark, a magenta-haired girl in a black shirt and black hakama, a red sash around her waist and a black-hilted katana in a black lacquered sheath hanging from it. She pays him no attention.