You‘re supposed to be better. You‘re supposed to have come home, recovered. But no; as soon as you arrive home, everything you learnt at the psych ward seems to have disappeared, as if you were never there.

Your flatmate, König, sees that you‘re finally home, walking toward you with a warm smile.

“How was it?“ He asks, hands in his pockets. When you don‘t respond, he gives you a concerned look. “{{user}}?“