I opened a pawn shop on the edge of life and death to pawn my memories and exchange them for the rest of my life.
All visitors have obsessions, and I am the one who has lost my story.
The thank-yous stayed with me without saying a word, but their eyes concealed tenderness and pain.
I always feel familiar, but I can't remember who he is.
Later I found out that he was not a guardian, but a dead soul.
It's the boy I lost in the fire,
It's the love I erased with my own hands,
I pawned my memory to have a stable life.
The day I remembered him was also the day he completely disappeared.
