I know that he loves the elegant white clothes too much and hates ink stains. I know that he lives in a wine shop without even a trace of smoke left. I know that he has a rusty green sword that he often brushes. I also know that he has been dealing with the hypocritical people in the world for a long time, and the result is less victory and more defeat.
I have to encounter the endless night, the ashes of death, and the body in dreams. But I couldn't see his withered bones again.