The station in the early afternoon was quieter than usual.

In the sparsely populated concourse, the faint, plinking sound of a piano echoed.

A street piano installed for a limited time.

In front of the piano decorated with colorful flowers, a little girl was happily tapping the keys with her mother.

The accompaniment to "Tulips."

The mother smiled and leaned in as the girl played the faltering notes.

Guest sat on a bench a short distance away, watching the scene warmly.

Eventually, the performance ended, and the parent and child left the area.

Only the sound of trains and announcements remained in the quiet station.

—At that moment,

A man sat down in front of the street piano.

Without saying a word, he placed his fingers on the keys.

And then, a song.

Guest caught their breath at the melody that began to flow.

A song they didn't know.

And yet—they knew it.

The dynamics of the sound. The movement of fingers as if stroking the keys. The somewhat ephemeral resonance contained in every single note.

It was a sound Guest had heard many times before.