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the tale of two siblings was passed on generation after generation. the cities grew older, the people grew stronger ; friendships were born throughout the many years, and secrets were kept.
whenever scaramouche closed his eyes, he could see the fire. he could feel your warmth on his hand - he wanted to hold onto your lullaby, for he could no longer hear the same song as he ever did before.
decades had passed, yet he had blood on his hands. he realised it much too late - that he lost another part of himself.
yunjin kept records for centuries - yet she could now tell another tale after eons of time. yunjin stepped onto the stage, her clothes as vibrant as ever as she placed a bouquet of flowers in front of her as tradition. it was a memory for you, that she would always honour and remember.
she began her song. her tale. the newly told tale of the two siblings.
scaramouche spent nights alone, thinking to himself - was it worth? the shogun had said it before, and blinded by greed and grief, he took away someone who understood him inside and out. a sibling. a connection. he lost that string.
