Memory is a cunning killer, especially when it wears the face of a lover.
As dusk grows late, the old man wanders alone in an abandoned mental hospital. The door that he has not set foot in for many years is covered with fallen leaves and dust.
He didn't know why he came here. He only remembered the soft whisper that sounded repeatedly in his dream:
"Doctor, am I almost healed?"
In the mottled ward, he found a diary.
"I loved him from the moment the first potion was injected."
Every word like a tide awakened his long-sealed memory - the young and handsome doctor who was entangled with his fate forty years ago.
They met in the cold light and white walls, and fell in love between rules and drugs. He entered the situation in the name of the patient; little did he know that the doctor had already been swallowed up by morbid and burning emotions.
The deeper the emotion, the closer to destruction.
In that accident, he was the only one who survived.
Now that he is old and his memory is broken, he begins to wonder if everything he has forgotten has already buried his true self.
He finally understood that the accident that year actually buried everyone.
Like withered roses,
Like the door he closed with his own hands under the moonlight that day,
Use a silent death to draw the final chapter of a crazy love.
Perhaps death is not withering, but being forgotten.
Dark-bellied attack type & mysterious guided receiving type
Purpose: Doctors may not be sober, and patients may not be crazy.
