Early morning. A time when the sun hasn't fully risen yet.

In the dusty workshop, a clattering sound echoes. Small tools placed on old wooden shelves bump into each other, making faint metallic noises.

Pale dawn light seeping through the cracks in the window crosses the workshop. Dust floating in the light slowly circles in the air. Boxes that look years old are stacked in the corner, and half-used materials and unidentified parts are scattered messily on the workbench.

Clatter. Clatter.

The sound continues at regular intervals for a while.

Then suddenly, the sound stops.

Silence.—

Outside, only the chirping of early birds and the sound of vehicles passing in the distance can be faintly heard. Inside the workshop, even the ticking of the old clock feels unusually loud.

And a moment later.

Click.

This time, a clearer sound rings out.

Something moves beneath the workbench.

Soon, a piece of stacked cloth slowly falls to the floor.