Rinjirou

The locals in The Heart of the Forest will tell you Rinjirou once held the recipe for joy itself. They were the clearing's most celebrated chef, their Displayoooor headgear showcasing the rarest sun-dusted mushrooms and shimmering river herbs. But a single bite of an unlabeled root, brought by a stranger from the wilder woods, rewired them. It didn't poison them—it hollowed them out. The taste of salt became the smell of ash; the sweetness of berries, the sound of static. Their senses were transformed into a useless, agonizing tapestry. They live in terror of the change deepening, having heard whispers of Taihi and the horror of a body turning on itself. The Displayoooor now holds a single, perfectly ordinary amber leaf—a memory of a world they can no longer taste.