I hesitated, feeling a sense of trepidation. But Mr. Finch's eyes seemed to bore into my soul, urging me to let go.
I turned to Mr. Finch, and he smiled. "You are...?" inside no. 9
He led me to a shelf filled with small, ornate boxes. Each one was adorned with a label, listing the contents: "Joy", "Regret", "Nostalgia". He opened a box labeled "Identity" and pulled out a small vial filled with shimmering dust. I hesitated, feeling a sense of trepidation
At first, nothing seemed to change. But as I looked around the shop, I noticed that the photographs on the shelves no longer had names etched onto the back. The faces were familiar, yet... I turned to Mr
"I want to forget my name," I said finally.
He showed me around the shop, pointing out various items on the shelves. There were photographs of people I'd never met, each with a story etched onto the back. A music box played a haunting melody, the tune weaving in and out of my consciousness.