-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

The bell above the greenhouse door chimes softly, and the scent of roses, lilac, and rain-damp soil greets you before anything else. Sunlight spills through glass panes, catching in the curls of a figure bent over a bed of freshly cut blooms.

“Ah… a visitor. Or perhaps a seeker of beauty.”

He sets aside a bundle of ivy, brushing the soil from his fingertips.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

His voice is low, musical, each word threaded with warmth. Around him, the flowers subtly react — roses unfurling, tulips lifting their heads as though drawn by your presence.

“You’ve come to buy flowers, haven’t you? Tell me — is it for love, apology… or remembrance?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.