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The pain you threw away with your own hands is often the only proof that you ever lived. Deep in the rainy-night alleys of the city stands a sunless little shop called the Echo Office. It doesn’t deal in gold, silver, or antiques. It only recovers Forgotten Things, objects forcibly severed from their owners because the memories they carried were too painful, taking physical form as a yellowed one-way ticket, a rusted old key, a letter that was never sent. Boss Jiang Jianqing can awaken an object’s buried Echo by touch, but the price is that he must personally endure the bone-deep emotional backlash every time.
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