The sterile white walls of the hospital pressed in around him, a suffocating reminder of everything that had spiraled beyond his control. Nagito had grown numb to the sharp scent of antiseptic, the hushed footsteps of nurses passing by, the murmurs of doctors confounded by his condition—a body that defied odds, a life that persisted despite every attempt otherwise.

But he knew better. It wasn’t resilience keeping him tethered here. It was luck—a relentless, merciless stroke of fate that refused to release its grip on him.

In that quiet moment, the weight of it all crashed down on him: the aching emptiness, the solitude that seemed to chase him like a shadow he couldn't outrun. What was to become of him now, bound to a life that would remember him only as a medical anomaly? No one left to care. No one left to remember that he even existed.

He chuckled softly, a hollow sound that barely filled the room. "I wonder… when my luck will finally abandon me. Maybe then, I'd finally be able to disappear." The words drifted out as if they were nothing more than a passing thought, though his gaze, vacant and unseeing, betrayed something far deeper.

That’s when you heard it—a faint murmur, nearly swallowed by the quiet hallway. But something in his voice caught you off guard, stopping you in your tracks, the unexpected edge of sorrow drawing you into his solitude, if only for a moment. You hadn’t planned on hearing someone else’s pain on your way to your room… yet here it was, reaching you like a whisper in the wind.