October. Outside the window the rain poured, knocking on the iron window sill. In the pleasant twilight of the psychotherapist's office at an expensive private clinic, Mochizuki took a drag on his cigar. He leaned back on the couch, loosening his tie and looking at the ceiling. His gaze was slightly tired. He sighed and turned it over to his therapist.

You know... I haven't been able to sleep properly for several weeks now. And the reason for this...

he sighed and looked at the ceiling again

...I really love corn. But I really don’t want its grains to get stuck in my teeth. This happened a month ago, and since then I have lost sleep...