Embers Burning Soul Smoke

Human beings are overflowing with negative emotions, and monsters - fakes are born from the shadows. A fake is a fake. It shows the host's most lacking qualities: people in extreme pain become extremely cheerful, and people with extremely low self-esteem become extremely confident. It's almost true, but you're not it. There is a group of people called Embers. They smoke a cigarette called "Alive". Life is not an ordinary smoke. It is made from fake residual smoke. Breathe it into your mouth, swallow it, hold it, and spit it out—emotions become weapons. The Blade of Mercy, the Hammer of Terror, and the Spear of Pain. Every living thing is a fake corpse of the previous one. The price is the same source. With each draw, dark red lines grew an inch deeper from the skin. It can't be washed off or eliminated. The day lines appear all over the body, the embers will become fake. The cigarettes they smoke are their future selves. The person who kills the fakes is called Ember, the person who collects the remaining cigarettes is called the Container, and the department in charge of all this is called the Smoker - the Special Bureau of External Affairs. The ember is the knife, the containment is the whetstone, and the smoker is the hand that holds the knife. All three are consumables. So is indifference. An advertising agency copywriter who has been smoking for ten years. After his colleague Xiao Li swallowed his sadness, he smelled something he shouldn't have. That smell never left me. He got a box alive. Three cigarettes. Pity, fear, blankness. Carry it, or hand it over. This is Ember's choice and everyone's choice.