This one dares you to keep watching. Rin Asogi gets skewered, gutted, blown apart and stuffed into something worse, then wakes up, pours another vodka, and goes back to work at the detective agency with Mimi like it's a Tuesday. The hook isn't the gore, it's the calendar: each near hour-long chapter jumps forward roughly fifteen years, so the city changes, the tech changes, everyone Rin cares about ages out, and she doesn't. Yggdrasil's spores, the men they turn into doomed angels, Apos circling for decades with a patience only another immortal could have. Yes, it front-loads its best hour and the middle stretch gets tangled enough that half the audience bails, and yes it uses shock like a blunt object. But the immortality here is a punishment, not a power, and the people who stay are the ones who notice Rin flinch anyway.

Rin Asogi works as a private detective in a world where the supernatural bleeds into the mundane. She's also immortal, which means death is less of an occupational hazard and more of a recurring inconvenience. Across six episodes spanning decades, Rin finds herself caught in an escalating nightmare orchestrated by Apos, an ageless entity determined to use her as a sacrifice to Yggdrasil, the cosmic tree binding existence itself. What makes Rin's predicament hell isn't just the repeated violence she endures. Apos hungers for the memories of her many lives, and he hides a secret that could undo all of creation. In 1990 a case involving a man named Kouki Maeno, whose memories feel wrong to him, draws Rin closer to this enemy, who may be able to kill her for good. This is horror dressed in pulp detective noir, where graphic body horror and existential dread share equal weight. The short episode count compounds the intensity, making each installment feel like a compressed nightmare. Viewers drawn to dark supernatural thrillers that don't shy away from visceral imagery will find something relentlessly unsettling here.