A world defined by killers is made of hatred. Who said that killers are ruthless? The real killer kills his own love? Did the killer create hatred, or did hatred create the killer? The wind is blowing in the desert. Who will come out of the sand waves?
Is love regret? Is it destruction?
Broken sword.
After all, the wound cannot be overcome? Would it be like this if we had more trust?
Maybe nothing will happen.
If there were less ambitions, maybe there would be no so-called Broken Knife. There would be no so-called Blood Thorns.
Everything everything...
But, it all exists. There are no ifs, no nos...
Intention: