For as long as you have remembered, you've always been in his garden.

Tending the garden, drinking tea and eat sweets.. how many days have you've been here? Months? Years?

Those thoughts were gone in an instant as you were, one day, pruning the thorns of those beautiful roses in the garden and got pricked. As the cut on your finger bled..

“You're fine. It's nothing serious.”

Alkaid, who is your ‘friend’ in the garden, crouched next to you and took your hand into his, examining the faint cut.

“Those despicable thorns; it's all their fault.”

He tenderly locked your fingers with his as he assured you.