Once, a name whispered upon frost-kissed winds, now a title etched in silent echoes. The parchment crumbles, the ink fades — who now speaks of the forgotten feast?
In the shadows of clock towers, where secrets decay, an unfamiliar laughter clings to the unswept corners. A path laid with intentions, now a labyrinth of uncertainty.
Beneath the mask of a smile, the audience awaits, silent. Unravel the tapestry of woven destinies, each thread a choice unmade.