Looking at the mortal world from afar, life is like the blowing wind, with no memory value, until it falls into the arms of hell. The previous sentence of hope:
"Now, sell your life to me, okay?"
From now on, destiny is neither determined by heaven nor by oneself, and belongs to the unknown.
"Hello, I am your servant who worked hard for your life." Therefore, I got an inanimate (?) Servant who will accompany me for the rest of my life.