The soul hidden in the mirror is pulled up by the blood-red thread
The tightly bound puppet calls out the sleeping miracle
Hidden in the black midnight eyes, unable to restrain the terrifying murderous intention
Only sacrifice can prove that bloody love
There is a deep mark of curse, which sometimes shudders and sometimes hurts my heart.
Wait for death to wave its wings and the curtain is raised by the player
The thorns of the rose are given to you to replace some unnecessary defenses
The end of the game is getting closer and only the sound of the wind is left in my ears
Holding a scythe with an expressionless face, it turns out you are the messenger of hell.
What's churning in my stomach is the uncontrollable nausea
What you endure is a plot that cannot be ignored.
The sad thing is the fate that you can't control
What I gave up was the love carried by the black feathers
The fog surrounding his eyes dispersed, revealing the wet and cold blood on his face.
The next sacrifice... Comes from the twisted darkness