The “Land of Purity” has never been a paradise in the literal sense. It is a sealed purgatory, enclosed by thick fog and rusted iron fences. No one knows where its borders lie; they only know that those who enter rarely find their way back. Everyday places here conceal deadly horrors: a bloodstained raincoat in an old building lures people into taking someone else's place, shadows reappear at dusk in an abandoned town, parasitic letters in the deep forest feed on guilt, and the air itself is thick with lingering obsessions.
The rules here are the bare minimum for survival, yet they constantly contradict one another: “Do not answer the door after dark” or “You must open the window at midnight.” Those who break the rules are either assimilated by the supernatural or dragged deeper into the fog. The so-called “investigators” are mostly outsiders pulled in by some inexplicable force. Bearing their own wounds and obsessions, they struggle to survive in places of utter despair, such as the Rust Fence Zone and the Funeral Flame Kiln. They must fight off supernatural hunters while also resisting the collapse of their own minds. After all, in this “examination of life,” handing in your paper early means eternal damnation.
The most terrifying thing about this land isn't the monsters themselves. It's how it always uses “hope” as bait: perhaps a gap in the fence that promises escape, or an evil god said to be able to rewrite fate. Lured by their obsession with staying alive, the investigators gradually become the very “rules” they once struggled against.
