They told me that people are born good, and I believed it.

Isn't that the person who treats me gently in the sun, the person who is willing to push the swing chair for me, the person who is willing to satisfy me as many beautiful dresses as I want, is not it a person who is born kind?

But then I killed a man.

Maybe to be more precise, I killed a devil, and when I killed it, I was so scared that I forgot how I killed it, and there was no blood on my hands, but I couldn't help but wash my hands over and over again, and my hands were stained with invisible blood, and I knew that I was different from those good people from now on, although the one I killed was actually not worthy of being a human being at all......

"I hope love is not missed" about the house (case wedge) is in the hand, please wait a while,

Once the content is updated, please refresh the page again to get the latest updates!