Thousands of years of history cannot wash away the glory they once had.
History books have not recorded their grudges and grudges. But these invisible hands are always controlling all the unknown dust. Isn't this a huge irony? Maybe this is their way of survival.
Midnight orchid. Two plum blossoms in one palm.
The one who carries the world.
Game world.
It's just a flower in the mirror.
Just looking for an unending ending.