An exorcist in Hokkaido armed with nothing but spite and a whip versus an entire prefecture of the undead, and she's losing to both the horny literary ghosts and the samurai with actual combat training. The show knows it has no budget and makes that the joke, Francesca herself is a zombie idol with all the dignity of a malfunctioning marionette, and she's somehow the most competent person on screen. You're watching a comedy that refuses to explain why any of this is happening or whether it's supposed to make sense, and that refusal is the entire point. For viewers who want their supernatural nonsense served chaotic and unglamorous, with just enough heart underneath the chaos to care when things go sideways.
A young exorcist stationed in Hokkaido tackles the growing zombie problem with competence and grit, banishing the undead back where they belong. Her routine work gets complicated when a group of legendary samurai suddenly resurface as reanimated corpses, forcing her to improvise beyond her usual playbook. Unable to handle the chaos alone, she makes an unlikely deal with Francesca, an undead pop idol with charm to spare, and Franken, her loyal canine companion who also happens to be undead. What starts as a desperate partnership becomes something stranger as the trio navigates supernatural incidents that blur the line between serious threats and absolute nonsense. The exorcist's stern determination constantly clashes with Francesca's theatrical personality and the general weirdness of working alongside the very creatures she's supposed to eliminate. Between banishing actual threats and managing her new team's antics, she discovers that survival in this job means adapting to impossible situations. The comedy flows from watching order collapse into chaos, watching a professional get dragged into scenarios no training prepared her for, and slowly accepting that sometimes fighting monsters requires becoming part of their world.