Villainess's Sweet Everyday

The mouth of the ceiling machine, which gently cleanses the field, does not come when it runs out of breath, but continues to spit endlessly. This pathetic artificial face has imposed city challenges on us until they are destroyed, scattered for the sake of human prosperity. I don't speak of any dissatisfaction and try to manage to live up to my expectations with as much performance as I can even if I'm sick.

Ugh, um, gradually, slightly, or something like that, you know, it's a wrinkle, your feet are here, your breath is hard, your chest is tightened, you want to relax, you want to rest, no, you need to work hard, yes, you need to work hard, yes, you do, fu, ku.