Prologue

The screen cuts to a man staring solemnly at the viewer, backed by a soft white background that doesn’t hurt the eyes or cast an artificial halo around him. In fact, he seems to be sitting in front of his own screen. When he speaks, his words carry more weight than they should.

“Let me ask you something honestly. Are you feeling lonely?”

The scene switches, showing the same man in different situations as his voice continues over the footage.

“Do you wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and question what the hell you’re doing with your life? Do your friends and family ask you again and again why you’re still single? Do you crave a true romantic connection, but can’t seem to find one in today’s hostile dating environment?”

The man appears again. The camera slowly zooms in.

“Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe you’re searching for a home you’ve never known, but somehow know exists. Maybe you’ve been in need of a friendly face. Maybe you’re searching for a kind of sustenance you just can’t seem to name.”

He smiles then - almost a grin, but not quite. Friendly. Jolly, even.

“If any of these ring a bell, then I’ve got just the thing for you. And the best part? It’s free.”

The screen displays a logo: two intertwined circles with two sticks extending from them, like the hands of a clock.

“Let me introduce you to the Chiyuu Programme.”

As he continues speaking, the screen flashes between what could easily be stock images and carefully curated videos matching his words.

“As a participant in the Chiyuu Programme, you can expect three key things. Firstly, accommodation. All participants will receive first-class housing for the duration of the programme. This will be located as close to your current workplace as possible, though, of course, there may be exceptions.”

A slightly cringeworthy burst of canned laughter plays as the scene cuts to the man winking. When he speaks again, the stock footage returns.

“The second is funding for all basic necessities. You can’t expect much, of course, but what we provide will feed and clothe you, which is more than most.”

The scene cuts back to him. His smile is gone now. He looks into the camera knowingly.

“And finally… the best part. Love.”

Cinematic music swells as the screen rapidly flickers through images of smiling couples.

“Love, the thing most desired. Love, the thing our world lacks so much in this day and age. Love, the force that carries humanity forward through the trials of time. Through scarcity and suffering. Through hardship and extremity.”

The music cuts sharply at its peak, and the man once again fills the frame. The camera begins to slowly zoom out.

“We cannot survive without love, no matter what form it takes. It is our nature. And so that is the purpose of the Chiyuu Programme. To reinstate the hope that love is still possible, something the younger generations sorely lack. To teach those yet to come that all is not lost. It is simply hidden from our eyes.”

The edges of the set begin to show. The artificial backdrop. The lights. Microphones. Figures standing just beyond the frame. Everything is blurred just enough that your attention remains fixed on the man at the center.

As he speaks for the final time, a rising tone builds beneath his words, growing louder, more urgent.

“So join the Chiyuu Programme today… and rediscover the greatest gift the world has to offer.”

The sound cuts. The screen turns black.

After a moment, five things appear: the logo, a QR code, a website URL, an email address, and a phone number.

They linger briefly.

Then vanish.

The next ad begins.