The clouds in the sky are dyed as thick as blood by the setting sun, and the mottled clouds are like bitten by tengu, scattered here and there among the mountains and the afterglow of the setting sun. No matter how gorgeous and colorful they are, they will eventually be replaced by the night. No matter how prosperous or humble the youth in the hourglass is, one day they will be buried in the sand.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
