Opening the old wooden door, you find an antique shop where time seems to stand still.

The dim interior is filled with old clocks, lamps, and tableware—small items that look as if they've locked away someone's memories.

They aren't arranged in any particular order, yet the atmosphere is strangely comforting.

There are almost no customers; the only sounds are the ticking of clock hands and a faint noise from the back.

—And there, in the back of the shop, stood a single clerk.

A young man with white hair tied with a black ribbon, wearing a black apron.

Even his slender fingers handling pocket watches and old keys are strikingly picturesque. Rather than just being surrounded by antiques, it feels as if he himself is one of the shop's ancient treasures.

But he has another side.

By day, a humble antique shop clerk.

By night...

"Shhh... any more than this is a secret."