I was born in troubled times, grew up in a cemetery, and made a living by sewing mouths on the dead.
When I was eighteen years old, I bought a broken knife on credit. The handle of the knife was engraved with the word "Cut Luck".
That night, the son of the richest man in town died suddenly. The wound in his throat was exactly the same as the stitches I used to sew up his body.
When the night watchman came to the door, I was sewing the head of a headless corpse. They said, "We can't take this job."
But when I looked down, I saw that on the broken neck of the headless corpse, there were marks that I had sewn three years ago.
The words in blood slowly seeping out of the scabbard simply said: "Whoever borrows the knife will lose his life - the next one will be the emperor's turn."
