Welcome to the Museum of Memories

After My Memories Were Wiped, I Became the Curator

A memory museum that exists for only 24 hours suddenly appeared in the city center.

I applied for a job as a cleaner, tasked with wiping away the painful traces visitors left behind.

Before closing time, I found a memory jar with my name on it in the trash.

But inside the jar were happy childhood memories that felt completely unfamiliar.

The curator smiled from the security room. “Welcome back, final exhibit.”

“To escape your pain, you sold me these memories with your own hands.”

“Now it’s your turn to guard this prison forever.”