It's night, and it's more exposed.
A gentle sigh accompanied by the slightly trembling sound of the piano came, disturbing a pool of spring water. On the branches and leaves, the early spring rain that accumulated an hour ago was shaken off by the metal collision of the sword being unsheathed, and fell onto the shoulders of the man in black under the tree. The early spring night breeze blew softly, but it still couldn't stop the long-lasting hatred in the man's eyes.
Those eyes full of hatred seemed to be mixed with a lengthy loneliness that seemed to have traveled through a thousand years...