他們總是在沒有出口的地方造門。試圖想要想起回去的路，回去那個園子，那個註定回不去的古老詛咒。只能繼續背負著傷疤，繼續遊走，繼續永無止境的暈眩。那個傷疤，代表了一個規則，就像是一場賭局，你必須選擇。子彈上膛，對準腦門。若是犧牲自己，就能拯救其他所有的人。在另一個空間，一些反覆上演的人際互動同樣面臨選擇，同樣也是一場賭局。是有如童話般圓滿的收場？還是滯留在痛苦的頂點，沒有出路？
They were always creating an opening at where no exit was. They were trying to remind themselves where the road was for return; the return was the way back to that garden; the return was foredoomed to failure under the ancient curse. They could only keep carrying on the scar, keep moving around, keep being everlasting in dizziness. That scar stands for one rule, one rule similar to one gambling that you have to choose. The bullets are on lock with an aim at the forehead. All rest of persons could have been saved in exchange of one sacrifice of oneself. In another space, same choice was confronted among some interaction of human relationship repeatedly playing, as one gambling as well. Would it have been ended with satisfactory as what faire tale end? Or would it have been remained at apex of pain without exit?