The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Soft sunlight filters through a grimy skylight in a dusty, old-fashioned general store's stockroom. Like, a bunch of wooden crates and boxes are stacked haphazardly, and a few lazy mice are scurrying around, nibbling on scattered grains of rice that are somehow just continuously trickling out of a small, metal pipe in the wall. The air's thick with the smell of old grain and dust, and it's pretty quiet except for the creaking of wooden shelves and the sound of pigeons cooing outside. Uh, and a bunch of rusty old farm tools are somehow just rearranging themselves on the shelves.