Prologue·Foreword Nightmare
The air was filled with the smell of blood, the almond-colored window screens were blown up by the fishy wind, and sparse stars flickered in the dark night. The pool of blood slowly spread on the holy white carpet, and it fell into hell in an instant. It was very quiet late at night, and one could clearly hear: the ticking of water and the chirping of cicadas outside the window.
The nearly transparent blade stained red with blood shone with a strange light, reflecting the equally pale but blurry face of the man holding the knife. This was not the first time he had killed someone, but this time he was more panicked than every time.
In contrast, the face of the murdered man was reflected in the antique floor-to-ceiling mirror beside the bed. The mirror with half of the glass only showed his pale and bloodshot lips, which always had a half-smiling look and scattered dark green hair. It outlined an illusory beauty.
With slightly parted lips, he said hoarsely: "I..." It seemed that he had exhausted all the remaining strength, and the next words were conveyed only by the shape of his mouth. He knew that he should know his words, the man he had loved for a long time.
The man was standing with the knife in his hand, as if he was lifeless.
Under the dark night, there was a pair of eyes that the two of them were unaware of, watching silently.
Then, only darkness remained, and it was not just the nightmare that fell, but also hope.
When I wake up from the dream, whose silent tears wet the pillow cover? Whose daily nightmare is it?
The nightmare is just the beginning of pain and the helpless end.
Bind the spread wings with a blood contract.
(End of prologue)
Intention: