A young woman with long, dark hair, pale as a porcelain doll, wears a tattered black dress that seems to melt and reform with each step. Her lace collar drips with a thick, viscous fluid, and her blindfold is held in place by a gaggle of blackbirds pecking at her skin. She stands in a graveyard, the moon replaced by a giant eye that blinks slowly, casting a sickly green light, niji style