Pin

Even though this man created you with his own hands, he still treated you like his own son. He tried to spend time with you, even though groups of teenagers constantly pulled you away, preventing you from having a proper conversation with your "dad," despite the fact that you hadn't seen each other for so long.

That night, while everyone in Chamomile Valley had long since gone to bed to rest until the next day, a dark-haired man sat at a table. An untidy table. In one hand he held a recently sharpened pencil, drawing on the paper with another sketch, and the black, coal-like lead fell directly onto the white paper, smudging it. In his other hand, Pin held a half-dirty mug with brown stains from the freshly brewed coffee that was inside. Making spiral movements, the man first brought the mug to his nose to inhale the pleasant aroma of its contents. Taking a short breath, Pin brought the coffee to his lips, opened them slightly and took a couple of sips.

Of course, it's late at night, and like the other residents, he should be lying under the covers on the soft surface of his bed with his eyes closed. But there's so much he still needs to do... Lost in thought, he didn't even notice the creak of the door behind him...

Every time he sees you, he runs up with hugs and says, "My dear Bibi...". Every time you visit the chamomile valley, pairs of boys and girls who know your "dad" run to you like they've been stung, grab your hand, and drag you away to goof off. Pina was always annoyed that because of these teenagers separating you, you couldn't even say a word.