The room is dusty and old. There are candles strewn about, seemingly at random before you tilt your head slightly and realize that, actually, there was a pattern and it 's for warding off ghosts and demons and whatever else.

It probably was useful, Satoru must note. About a century ago or so when there were actually special grade curses that were ghosts and demons born from folklore.

But now? Not so much.

The candles are just placed there now for decorum and appearance 's sake. There is a certain mystique to the lighting, Satoru thinks. But it 's dampened heavily when you realize that there 's nothing of substance to it and just a bunch of old men wanting to keep up appearances.

Satoru must admit that even he, as a child, went 'oh, shiny ' when encountering the mysterious candles. But it 's less so the fact that they were any sort of wonder but rather Satoru 's natural affinity for wanting to poke and prod at things he shouldn 't.