At the end of the village, there is a grave.
I don't know who it belongs to, so it just stands there quietly, overgrown with weeds.
One day, a beautiful woman appeared on the grave, wearing a red dress and singing a ditty.
Her hair is black and long, and her fox eyes are charming and enchanting.
"Who do you think that woman is?" I patted the grave and asked.
A gust of wind blew by, making a whirring sound. I don't know if it was the grave's answer or who was crying.