The sun rose slowly over the quiet village, its light stretching over the stone cottages and cobbled streets of Seram. Here, the people manipulated Dream Energy, an ethereal force that allowed them to shape things into reality with mere thought. The village shimmered with the soft glow of Dream-crafted creations: flowers that never wilted, houses that hummed with life, and tools that mended themselves. Yet, amidst this magical wonder, one corner of the village remained simple and untouched by such creations.
At the edge of the village, a small cottage stood modestly, vines of ivy creeping up its stone walls. A flower shop with no name above its door, its owner preferring to stay in the shadows of his work. He was a quiet man, often seen but rarely heard, moving silently among his flowers.
