The next day, early morning.
Real World.
United States of America—the West Coast.
A light drizzle, accompanied by hazy sunlight that had yet to fully reveal itself, filled the place with a faint smell of the sea and an air of leisure.
Looking out, there were already scattered pedestrians and tourists wandering across the vast beach, discussing all manner of things with one another.
Some vagrants were also slowly prowling nearby, trying to find something to eat or wear around the area by the shoreline where a concert had been held last night.
For example, after rummaging around for a while, one middle-aged male vagrant happily found three boxes of leftover popcorn, five half-finished bottles of cola, along with one intact bra and two pairs of women's underwear in a pile of trash beside the concert venue.
All in all.
It counted as quite a bountiful haul.
Then, just as he put his things away, nodded in satisfaction, and was about to head back home.
Suddenly.
Standing at the edge of the shoreline.
Carried by the sea breeze, he faintly heard some strange sounds.
Sounds that were somewhat familiar, yet should not have appeared at this moment.
They were the sounds of waves frantically battering the sea, of countless tons of seawater surging through the ocean.
The last time he had heard such sounds.
Had been a few years ago, when an exceptionally heavy rainstorm had been falling here.
Back then, the tsunami that had swept onto land had nearly carried him away on the spot from the culvert beneath a nearby bridge where he slept, to feed the fish.
He had only survived because, by sheer luck, a stalled truck had happened to block him. Otherwise, he would have been dead long ago.
However.
This was a gentle, drizzly