Our story begins a long time ago.
I have always stubbornly believed that it was the story of the four of us.
Those were our happiest times.
But,
I don't know.
Our joy can turn into pain.
Our happiness will turn into a sharp needle,
Stab into our hearts,
If you insist that I get rid of the past,
Pull out the sharp needle,
Then,
I will,
Blood surged into his chest.