"...I was sure I hated you. So why do I keep coming here every year? You must have put a curse on me, Bei Sangyun."
A man in his mid-fifties sat in a wheelchair as he spoke in front of a grave.
He was only in his fifties, but his head was full of white hair. His once handsome figure was tainted by the passage of time. He looked tired and old, his gaze filled with remorse and sadness he could not hide.
It was slightly windy today, and the wind ruffled his white hair as only the sound of the breeze passed through the silent graveyard.
"...But I am also pretty sure that I didn't hate you at first. So when did it start? When did this feud between us, which has lasted our entire lifetime, begin?"
The man looked up at the sky, which was starting to turn dark.
"Was it when you started relentlessly bullying me every single day in the past?"
Only the breeze replied to him.
The man closed his eyes as he reminisced about those times.
