Inside a grimy six-tatami room lies a darkly stained blanket — an ominous reminder of its owner, and his demise.
Scattered on a circular chabu-dai coffee table are empty jars of "one-cup" sake and shōchū (distilled spirits), the moldy remains of a convenience store bento-box lunch and horse-racing stubs — hints that the inhabitant may have met his sudden, solitary death while contemplating his chances at the racetrack.
In another room, a blue tarp holding a pool of blood is spread out below a severed noose tied to a ladder leading up to the loft. On the wall, written in tape, is the word "gomen" ("sorry"), while what appears to be a last will sits on the desk.