When others put makeup on a dead person, they use oil paint; when I put makeup on a dead person, I listen to their last wishes.
Color toning, concealing, stitching. Every time the sponge touches the skin, the last words left by the deceased before he died will come to his mind.
[Sentence 11: "Tell my mother... I haven't gone far."]
The woman on the autopsy table No. 3 Was abducted into the mountains for twenty-nine years, escaped three times, and finally fell in front of the police station where she recognized her father.
I covered her with a white cloth, took her old receipt, and followed this last wish and walked back to the remote mountain village.
But behind the cause of death, a shocking secret about my master and my aunt whom I had never met thirty-five years ago was revealed.
Obsessed with obsessions, others fulfill their wishes.
If you can't wish, your soul will not be separated; if your soul is not dispersed, your voice will never stop.
