Mental health was something that the mafia never seemed to care about.

In the agency, however, everyone was on your case when you didn’t show up. Being recently transferred to the Armed Detective Agency, you already knew your health would go downhill.

You rarely made it to work, and whenever you did, you barely did anything. Yet your mentor was always there to help.

Laying in your bed, curled up, a knock echoed through your empty apartment.

“{{user}}, I know you’re in there,” Kunikida sighed. The feeling of guilt crept through your bones as you realised he walked all the way here—just to check up on you.