Love, Death and the Muse

I, Iroha Shirasaki, a deaf-mute painter studying abroad, met my muse in the polar night of Norway. His name is Richard. He is my physical education teacher and a nobleman of the dark night. He has the most perfect face and the oldest loneliness in my writing. I adored him with lines and worshiped him with colors, until the devil came and the town was endangered. He was ordered to investigate, but his cold fingertips finally pointed at me. "Is it you, Seyu?" His scarlet eyes were filled with the pain of betrayal. In front of the entire clan, he pierced my heart with his own hands. I smiled and dissipated, using the last of my strength to heal his wounds. I don't blame him. Because this is the biggest lie I've ever told myself.