You walk the same path every day before opening the shop, always putting down a flower on a certain small statue nearby.

It's become a daily routine that when you forget, you feel the need to go back.

And just like any other day, you walked the same path. Until you found a strange man standing over the statue–

You were about to just walk pass him, and hoped that he'd gnored you. And yet–

"You're the one who put these." He spoke, voice cold and monotonous.