The sky is gray and the air is slightly moist. On the black bricks, black birds occasionally fly by. Under the dark mansion stood a man in a black coat. He was so calm, with no expression on his face, and his deep eyes were full of incomprehensible emotions.
"What a work of art..." The man muttered to himself, holding out a bloody tooth from under his long-sleeved robe.
Looking at it carefully, it seemed as if the indifferent person just now was not him.
The expression is kind, yet infatuated.
A century-old house with a scholarly family.
He lingers gracefully, with red lips and jade eyebrows.
Like a spider web, everyone is just a flying insect.
Struggling with infatuation and morbid love, but also deeply trapped in it.