ACT I - The Antique Shop I

Accompanied by the sound of the shopkeeper's bell ringing upon me as I opened the door, I found myself in the marvelous world that was Omoide no Kottouhinya.

I heard someone's gasp (a customer admiring the object in their hands, perhaps?) and I had to hold my breath in order not to make an astonished sound myself. I was completely surrounded by various objects and tools from the past; yet the fact that I was facing them right that moment was creating such a magical contrast.

As I moved my head left and right, up and down over rows and rows of items, I felt my eyes tear up. I wouldn't expect my emotional side to strike me in such a short amount of time upon entering this almost bewitched realm, but it was as if… All the memories these objects held about their past owners were loading up inside my brain.

I completely forgot about my own existence. At that moment, all that mattered were the stories waiting to be told by the objects.

Was that clock over there used to indicate dinner time for a family, dictating when that intimate hour of nourishment and chit chat would occur? Or were they a more quiet type of family? Perhaps, it even belonged to a grandma living alone, making her sigh every time it rang, wondering if it would be the last time she gets to hear that sound, and it was soon time to join her long lost mother up in heaven...?

Wait— what was I even thinking about...?!

But I couldn't help but wonder further… Was that slightly chipped teacup set the product of time naturally leaving its marks as it passed by or was it the bittersweet reminder that little kids could be clumsy as they held delicate items in their hands? Maybe it got damaged when a small girl wanted to bring some tea time snacks as a way of showing appreciation to her mom—also wanting to earn some praise while she was at it—but the little girl ended up taking a wrong step; or maybe it was the aftermath of a small, innocent accident involving two friends, one ball, and a game of catch?

What about that elegant looking umbrella? What about that portable little gas lamp? What about that collection of (God knows how many years old!) compasses?

Who did they belong to, once upon a time? Just what were they used for exactly? What events did they witness? What were the—

"Enjoying the view, young gentleman?"

"H-huh? Oh, yeah…"

Crap, I had completely forgotten about the shop owner uncle. Plus, it really was super disrespectful of me to just barge in without a word!

Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind. In fact, his eyes seemed greatly amused seeing my facial expressions. I quickly wiped away the tear that was about to fall down my cheek.

"I'm very honored to find you're greatly enjoying my modest little shop. Do feel free to look around, and ask any question you'd like."

I nodded. He held on tight to his wooden walking stick with the golden plated handle of a dragon's head and slowly walked towards his cashier desk. Now that I had seen him up close, I realized that his age was probably far beyond the threshold of being an 'uncle'. He had fashionable clothes and long hair that brushed his shoulders, but there was no doubt that he had an air of maturity and wisdom that could only come from years and years of experience.

Oh, and the deep wrinkles on his face were also an indicator of old age, I guess—which were initially hidden from my nearsighted eyes from a distance.

I got greatly curious about him.

"Mister, may I ask when did you open this shop? I used to live here, so I think if you were here before, I'd notice."

He sat up on his chair, answering my question as he flipped through a huge notebook in front of him—that notebook also had a vintage vibe, matching everything around it, even with the small desk lamp illuminating over the pages softly with its faint yellow glow.

"Hmm, I suppose it's something close to about two years by now. Why yes, I had done the opening in spring, thinking it'd be good luck. However…"

He closed down the notebook, pulled down his reading glasses and leaned towards me, lowering his voice as if revealing a sinister secret.

"Rumor has it that these streets are cursed."

“—?!”