In the dim glow of a rain- slicked city street, a lone figure stands beneath a flickering neon sign that reads, "Broken Hearts Club. " The crimson light spills across the wet pavement, reflecting in the puddles like the remnants of a shattered dream. A torn love letter flutters in the breeze, its ink running like silent tears. Draped in a long, oversized coat, the figure clutches a single wilted rose, its petals darkened by the evening rain. Around them, the city pulses with indifferent energy—couples hurry past, hand in hand, illuminated by the warm glow of café windows, their laughter muffled by the downpour. Inside the club, visible through a fogged- up window, a melancholy jazz band plays a slow, soulful tune as heartbroken souls nurse bittersweet cocktails. The bar is lined with lonely patrons, each lost in their own silent stories of love lost, framed in moody shadows and candlelit sorrow. This is the world of the brokenhearted—a place where love lingers as an ache, painted in deep blues, somber purples, and fleeting glimpses of crimson passion that once burned bright but now fade into the night. Anime, Niji