Flowers fall into mourning, and the city is captivated.
All stories, all love, end quietly in the cycle of time
All the colors disappeared, and large areas of darkness surged in. Among us who have gone through thorns and thorns all the way, who turned around first and who left first? Who abandoned the vow of never giving up and let the wind blow it away? Looking back at the way we came, there were only hideous wounds all over the body and blood and flesh all over the ground...