2 There is an expectation, an expectation,

is also looking for a yearning in that anticipation and anticipation,

Looking for a kind of retrospection, that is a kind of tenderness,

But it seems to be there, far, far away or something,

He couldn't catch anything in it, and he couldn't grasp anything. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

It was only in that he found that he lacked a strength, a grip on whoever was hovering in the air.

So who is it that wanders?

Is it himself?

Or who does he care about?

He couldn't tell the difference between them, and he couldn't see them very clearly.

It seems that there is some kind of distantness in it,

It seems that there is something far away in it,

It's as if in the middle of the distant unknown,

What exists and what disappears.

That's the smell and aroma of indifferent plants,

There is something that he has been recalling and remembering in that vague memory,

He just sank in it, because he thought it was a good time,

It's as good and reassuring as a baby hiding in the arms of a mother,

And when they are forcibly separated and separated from the bosom of their mothers,

Like a baby's instinctive crying,

It seems to be there to mourn and unwilling something,

What kind of beauty exists in that world,

And what kind of waiting exists there,

What kind of warm waiting,

It's like waiting and waiting for the dawn of the day.

There was a time when he hated blood,

He was there as if he didn't want to pick up the sword again,

And all of a sudden, he didn't want to kill anymore.

It seems that they all have some kind of hope, hoping to become someone who is killed by others.

Though he is still alive,

However, he only felt that although he was alive, he might as well be a dead man.

It's not that he has a feeling that life is worse than death.

It's just that on the path of that life, he feels small,

I feel that the road of my life is long, and it seems that there is not much meaning.

His presence or absence seemed to be irrelevant, and he felt that it didn't make much difference between being alive and dead there.

He has a heart that he or seems to want to live again.

It seems to be just a feeling of exhaustion.

Or perhaps, when the fatigue is healed, he may be thinking about something again in it.

Whether you care or not, it seems that you are always troubled in it.

It was a stream of blood,

Nothing could be found from the bodies and corpses that had fallen one by one in front of him, behind him, behind him, and on the side.

That's when he did it, and those people, those who walked like corpses,

From his own body, it seems that there is no resistance to the time of consumption and spending,

Suddenly, he realized his own indifference.

In that memory and memory, he remembered, and he also remembered how many people he had killed.

How many families and how many people have been destroyed,

And whether he wants to trade his life for these innocent souls who died tragically under his sword.

But are those people, those who died, those who were killed by him, really innocent?

From the moment he began to pick up the Changhong Sword in his hand and start killing, he just felt that those people should be killed.

It is precisely because he feels that those people are innocent of death that he will embark on this road, spread this road of murder, and will one day lose his life.