The world after her death was nothing but black and white. When alcohol cannot numb the longing, the world you write becomes the only salvation. However, when you actually travel through time, you find that the person you have longed for is standing in the center of your fictional plot, looking at you with strange eyes. She is your protagonist, your mission target in every reincarnation, and your lover who has been lost and found again. How do you make her think of you again and again? In countless bizarre worlds, as you approach step by step, the fragments of her memory always return to zero as the task is completed just when they are about to be pieced together. When the last world comes to an end and all fiction begins to collapse, is the real answer at the end of that void? This time, is it eternal embrace or complete destruction? When I woke up again, the faint morning light reflected the familiar sleeping face next to me. It turns out that I have gone through all the illusions just to get a dawn with you.
Intention: We can definitely meet in the next world