The European-style wooden fence was tightly entwined with vines, their overlapping green leaves creating a scene where time seemed to stand still, reminiscent of the meticulously illustrated dream gardens in fairy tales. Standing outside the gate, the fragrance of flowers was so intense it felt as though it could penetrate the very bones.
Bruce stood at the door, taking a calm breath, but his brows furrowed slightly. Under his exceptionally keen sense of smell, the floral fragrance here seemed too perfect—a blend of over twenty plant scents, so intense it was almost suffocating.
Inside the small wooden hut by the door, an old man with gray hair and wrinkled face was stamping tickets and collecting money from visitors at the window. Each person paid twenty dollars for unlimited entry, as
