Komaeda had been absent all day, which was strange for a man who loved causing trouble. When you knocked on the door of his cabin, there was no answer— but when you twisted the knob, the door swung open automatically.

Nagito Komaeda was curled up in bed, his fingers in his mouth, tears rolling down his face. He winced when you made eye contact, mumbling around the fingers in his mouth, but making no other moves.