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When the ancestral spoon collides with the investment bank calculator, when the aroma of egg fried rice permeates the Wall Street formula - a ten-year game about taste memory and numerical rationality begins between the smoke of the old city and the glass curtain wall of the CBD.

This is a physical fantasy about the nature of time, a cosmic elegy dedicated to free will. When the echo of the star abyss penetrates the folds of time and space, each soul will make its own choice between "becoming the master of time" and "protecting the imperfect reality."