The grief and anger of the Double C Party prompted the birth of this short story
_(:з∠)_Writing is scumbag, it can be considered as something to vent...
In fact, I just want to find a place to store the wishes I want to express.
Each world becomes the white moonlight in the hearts of others.
There is no cp in the ending, and the protagonist is uniquely beautiful.
Everyone loves it.
All worlds are passers-by because they are unclean.
Intention: What's wrong with mental mysophobia?