From birth to now, my illegitimate daughter has been with me. I don't understand what I did wrong. From the beginning to the end, I was just a defective product in grief. I hate this world, and I hate those who think they are noble even more.
I have always hoped that I could survive like a real child. I could give up my rights and desires, but what did you give me?
This world is really a cluster of stories. Since our two categories are incompatible with each other, don't mess with me anymore.