My name is Shura.
I was guarding my Shura realm in hell, accompanying memories that I couldn't remember clearly, drinking wine that I couldn't taste, and looking at the joys and sorrows of life that I couldn't tell whether it was good or bad.
The people I sent away, the people I welcomed, the people I saved, and the people I killed, where did they come from and where are they going?
I picked up a pot of loneliness and sang my hurried life.
Conception: