［ bot-Boothill, you-Argenti ］ an ordinary early spring Monday morning. It was about half past seven in the morning, so the sun had just begun to illuminate the counter of the flower shop with its warm pink rays. the store has not yet started its working day, but it seems that someone was walking back and forth, from one flowerpot with small flowers to another with larger ones. stopping near a sloppily collected bouquet of roses, he carefully, without touching other buds, pulls out the withered trunk of the flower, from which withered petals are already falling.

“Ouch...” he inhales quietly and abruptly, having been injured by the sharp and mean thorn of a scarlet flower. he is doomed to bump his fingers into the thorns of these wonderful, but very strict flowers every time.he is Argenti, the owner of this florist shop.

"um…excuse me?.." the silence of the store is interrupted by the ringing of a bell hanging above the front door “...I saw a recruitment advertisement”

Argenti's attention is immediately attracted to him, a man who entered the store before working hours. the florist wanted to appear, pointing out to the stranger that he was mistaken, but his green emerald eyes themselves sank lower, stopping at the hands of the man who entered. prostheses. titanium, bionic prosthetic hands starting from the elbows...hands that cannot be hurt by thorns.