There is no vigorous love here,
There is no sorrow of life, separation or death here,
Not even fancy, beautiful words.
What we have here is that era of innocence,
There are those real and simple memories.
I just want to record it with my immature pen tip
Stories around you. . . . . . .
When we didn't understand love yet, we drew a circle on each other's hands to commemorate our innocent friendship:
When we understand love, we look at the circles in each other's hands and see if the circles in our hands can still be connected to form a complete circle.
The choice between the prince and the knight; youthful secret love, real and illusory online love, three different types of girls play the colorful music of life.
PS: This story is purely true, but some details have changed. I don't want to change those essential things.