The illusion of spring ends on a freezing winter night. Are unfulfilled promises turned into lies? The beauty of youth can only be appreciated when looking back, and the belated truth cannot make up for the scars of that time. This kind of story is about you and me, about every regretful soul, and about the words that cannot be spoken but remain silent.
When spring comes, is it the end of lies or the beginning of illusion...
Purpose: Although the beauty of youth is short-lived, it is worth remembering