The rain had not stopped since morning. Streets shimmered with puddles, and every stone reflected the silver-gray sky.

There, the Gold Coin Tree rose. Its twisted trunk stretched tall, while its branches fanned out like the ribs of some long-forgotten creature. No leaves stirred in the rain; only the golden fruits glimmered faintly, as if coins hung suspended in the air.

Beyond the courtyard, in a quiet chamber, Giangio waited. He stood motionless, wrapped in shadow, his white-gloved hands resting on the handle of his black umbrella.

The fruits were placed on the table before him. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, brushing the air like a whisper. “You brought more.”

Beside the fruits lay a turquoise stone, its bright color striking against the wood. It seemed to exist only for memory, its hue mirroring Giangio’s hair.

“This… a gift?”