In the winter of 2016, a middle-aged man existed who was loved by a young girl and who loved her back—just twenty years away from old age. His presence is so touching, one might wish for it to become the future standard. Yet behind this image lurks a filthy old man greedily devouring her pale, delicate skin. Knowing such a man exists makes me unbearable. I want someone to tell me it's a lie—that this girl couldn't possibly be with such a disgusting old bastard. I pray she's still a virgin. But my hope is futile; the harsh reality remains that this man and this girl are engaged in sexual relations. Wait—just twenty years until old age. How will love and purity be portrayed in that span of time? This drama unfolds here.