In the heart of the bustling city, hidden within a narrow alley nearly forgotten by time, stood a small shop with no sign. There were no advertisements, no crowd of customers pushing through its doors—only a single weathered wooden entrance with a tiny bell that chimed whenever someone entered. No one knew how long the shop had existed or who owned it. But whispers floated through the city, tales of a place that sold something priceless—memories that had been lost.

Alya found it by chance, or perhaps fate had led her there. Wandering aimlessly through the streets, carrying the weight of an unbearable loss, she stopped in front of the shop as if it had called her name. With a hesitant heart, she pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside, unaware that her life was about to change forever.