The weather never got better and it seemed like it had been raining for a century. Lotus—Wangyou Tree, I named this store. Rose was drunk again. The rose-red dress on her body was already soaked through. Her long seaweed-like hair clung to her chest, and small streams of water flowed quietly. Like a tropical fish, surrounded by an icy atmosphere... How much does she hate this world? If meeting you is like rain, it will never stop from beginning to end.
Conception: