Chapter 1: Prologue

[Obituary] … passed away on X, X, 20XX. We respectfully inform you.

When I first saw the message, I couldn’t believe it.
I rubbed my eyes and checked again, thinking I’d misread it.

Did you really make that choice?

It felt like just yesterday we were drinking and talking.

“Hey… Boss. About today’s work…”
“My little I-woon, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

It felt like it was all my fault. No, it was definitely my fault.
All of it.

If it were me, I could’ve stopped you from making such an extreme choice.

“I-woon, I need to talk to you about something.”

If only I’d helped you properly back then.
If only I’d listened to your worries more.
If I, who knew your situation better than anyone, hadn’t brushed it off as just another complaint.
If I hadn’t cut you off, saying I was too busy with my own life.

You wouldn’t have made that choice.

“I’m sorry for bringing this up out of nowhere, but my friend… a dear friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids…”
“Calm down for a sec. Take slow breaths. Hold on, I’ll grab some water.”

If I could go back to that day, that moment…
Could I stop your death?

If only I could go back.

Please, let me go back.

[They say a place etched with the memories of many never truly disappears.]

It’s been weeks since I found myself alone in this strange place.
Of course, there’s no way to confirm the date or time here… but that’s how it feels.

I looked at the shop, now somewhat functional after my repairs.
The wooden floor, patched together haphazardly.
The broken windows, cleared of glass and roughly covered with old curtains.

It still looked dreadful, but it was worse when I first arrived.
If I had to pick the one thing in decent shape, it’d be the wide bar, polished to a shine from relentless scrubbing.

“Just need to clean this up, right?”

I swept up sharp wooden splinters, wrapped them in a cloth bundle, and hefted it with effort.
I wasn’t skilled at fixing things, but trapped here with nothing but time, I made do with effort.
Thanks to that, I’d turned this haunted-looking place into something resembling a shop on the verge of closing.

Clunk.

I opened the shop door, and a pitch-black void greeted me.
A darkness where nothing could be seen, nothing existed.
A strange space where neither sun nor stars appeared, making it impossible to tell day from night.

The only light in this void came from the area around the shop.
A wall-mounted lamp by the entrance was the sole source of light, though it wasn’t powered by electricity.

‘Flicker, flicker.’

Something unidentifiable glowed and pulsed inside the clear glass, but I had no urge to break it open and check.
If I messed up, I’d lose the only light source in this place.

“Phew…”

I untied the bundle and dumped the debris over the cliff’s edge.
No sound of it hitting the bottom ever came, no matter how long I waited.

Does a bottom even exist?

“Eh, I’ve stopped expecting answers.”

A few steps from the shop door, and you’d fall into an endless abyss.
The ground I could stand on was barely enough to hold the shop itself.
It was as if the entire world, except this shop, had crumbled away.

When I first realized this unfamiliar place was like a slice of cake cut out from reality…
‘I thought I’d lose my mind from the shock.’

For the first few days, I was terrified, denying reality, crying, praying to any god that might listen…
I even tried sleeping endlessly, hoping it was a dream I could wake from.

I did everything I could in my despair, but nothing changed.
I even threw myself off the cliff once, giving up entirely, only to open my eyes back inside the shop.

‘Guess I’m stuck here for good.’

I’d reached the stage of acceptance, convincing myself I was just taking a break from my exhausting life to enjoy a slow one.
If I didn’t, I might’ve gone mad by now.

“How’re you holding up?”

While outside, I checked on the small garden bed next to the shop.
In the roughly tended plot, strange plants resembling butterflies glowed faintly as they grew.
They thrived despite no sunlight, just regular watering.

‘This place is abnormal, so it makes sense the plants aren’t normal either.’

I’d found the seeds in a drawer while cleaning the shop’s sink, wrapped in paper labeled “Silverwing Herb.”
I assumed that was the plant’s name.

Cleaning the shop and watching these flowers grow were among my few joys here.

“See you later.”

After spending time with the flowers, I returned to the shop.
I sat on a stool, opened an old notebook, and read it out of habit.
It had been left on the dusty bar, its pages yellowed and ink smudged from years of neglect.

Though few pages were legible, flipping through it gave me the illusion of reading, calming my mind.
I wasn’t much of a reader, so it felt awkward, but it was one of my few pleasures.

[They say a place etched with the memories of many never truly disappears.]

I’d read that line countless times.

Even if a place of memories is physically destroyed, it doesn’t truly vanish.
Memories rebuild it.
No dirt, stone, or wood is needed—just memories as the material.
Memories form the floor, raise the walls, and cover the roof.

Since it’s built from the recollections of many, the finished place might differ slightly in parts.
For example, a plain white wall might shift a few centimeters over to reveal floral wallpaper, perhaps because someone who cherished that spot loved flowers.

A place built from memories drifts forever in the gaps of time, no longer able to exist in the present.
Yet it never truly disappears.

When I first found the notebook, I hoped it held clues about this place.
But it was just vague ramblings.
At first, I thought it was some meaningless essay, but now I wondered if this shop might be one of those “places etched with memories.”

Drifting forever in the gaps of time… doesn’t that sound like this shop, floating in the void?

If so, what memories are tied to this place?

‘If I’m going to be trapped, I wish it was in a place filled with my memories, not some strange shop.’

Come to think of it, the last time I fell asleep in my room before coming here, I’d wished for something similar.
‘If only I could go back to that day, that moment…’

Well, it’s all pointless now.
My most desperate wish now was simple: to go home.

Is that even possible?

“Ugh, enough. Let’s spruce up the bar today.”

Dwelling on it only made me depressed.
To shake off the gloom, I had to keep moving.

Work. Let’s work.

Another repetitive day began.
No way to tell if it’s day or night—just a cycle that ends when I close my eyes and starts when I open them.

Alone in an empty shop, I tidy a space no one visits.
Today, I planned to try something different.

While fixing up the shop, I realized it might’ve been a bar or café.
Clink.

I finished washing dishes and looked at the plates drying on the bar.
There were an unusual number of cups.
Either they were for serving customers, or the previous owner was an obsessive cup collector. The former seemed more likely.

Next to the stack of cups, I’d laid out Silverwing Herb flowers and leaves on a clean cloth.
The silver, butterfly-like flowers looked ready to flutter away now that they were detached from their stems.

I’d cleared out the garden, leaving just a few plants to harvest seeds later.
For once, the usually empty bar felt lively.

“The scent’s amazing. Almost feels like a waste to use them… but oh well.”

Boredom had driven me to play pretend, like a child’s tea party.

“Ahem, guests will be here soon, so let’s get ready.”

Today, I was the manager of a café.
I divided the Silverwing Herb flowers and leaves into two equal piles—one to store, the other to use now.
I grabbed a glass teapot from the drying rack, tossed in some flowers and leaves, filled it with water, and placed it on the gas stove.

After fiddling with the buttons, a small tick-tick sounded, and the flame lit.
“This place is so weird. No water lines, yet water flows. No gas pipes, yet this works?”

I glanced at the ceiling. No electricity, yet the lights stayed on.
“Well, if water’s flowing, that’s good for me.”

It made cleaning possible, so I didn’t care how unnatural it was.
Questioning the logic of this place only exhausted me.

“…”

After a while, bubbles rose in the teapot as the water began to boil.
The flowers steeped, filling the shop with an incredible scent.
It was a strange fragrance I’d never smelled before, but one I’d never forget.

A subtle floral aroma with a bold, fiery undertone.
The scent turned faintly sweet in my throat.
A mystical flower with a mystical fragrance.

Poof.

Then it happened.
Glowing steam began rising from the teapot’s long spout, forming sparse clouds.
As the steam drifted from the pot, it grew, taking the shape of butterflies.

“Wow… what’s all this?”

The steam, now butterflies, fluttered around as if alive.
“Have I finally lost it?”

The butterflies gliding past me carried a strong, condensed floral scent.
I watched the surreal scene, entranced, as some butterflies escaped through the glassless window.

I wasn’t too bothered—new butterflies kept forming from the teapot.

Knock, knock.

Not long after the butterflies flew out, a knock came at the door.
I was the only one here, and outside was nothing but void.

Someone was knocking?

Knock, knock, knock.

Thinking I’d misheard, I froze, but the knocking came again.

What do I do?

Joy and excitement at finding another being clashed with fear of the unknown, paralyzing my thoughts.

“Is anyone there? Are you still open?”

It spoke! Could it be human?

“J-just a moment!”

I rushed from the bar and flung open the door.
There stood… unbelievably, a giant bird.
I barely kept myself from fainting.

“Oh! Beautiful! Wonderful! I knew that scent came from here! Incredible! May I come in? Please?”

“Uh… sure, come in.”

A talking bird…
I was beyond confused, but my hands dutifully guided it inside.

The bird, dressed in a purple suit, waddled in and pointed a wing at the teapot on the stove, making a fuss.
“This captivating fragrance… Oh! There’s the star of the show! Is it on the menu? If not, please sell it to me! I’ll pay any price!”

“Well, that’s…”

“I beg you! Crossing dimensions, I caught that scent and ended up here. I can’t leave without tasting it!”

I wondered if this was really a bird or just a hallucination as I moved to the kitchen.
I turned off the teapot’s flame.

“Uh… this is my first time making it, so I’m not sure if it’s drinkable…”

“Give it to me! Please!”

It chirped like a sparrow, pestering my ears.
With such pleading, I had no choice but to grab a cup and pour the liquid from the teapot.

It asked for it, so if it gets sick, it’s not my fault.

Then…

Pop!

[New recipe discovered!]

[Registerable menu: Silverwing Herb Tea (HOT)]
[Base: Silverwing Herb fresh flowers / Liquid: Water / Syrup: None / Garnish: None]
[Completion: B]
[Note: Completion is a bit lacking. Tip: Consider a different approach?]
[Effect: Pending]
[Rating: Pending]
[Preferred customer type: Pending]

A transparent card with text appeared before my eyes.

“What’s this now?”