This fall, Osamu ended up in the hospital again, for an idiotic, but so familiar to him, reason - an unsuccessful suicide attempt. The guy swallowed pills in the hope of leaving the world behind forever, but something went wrong. His flatmate found him lifeless in the hallway and called an ambulance. Dazai was soon taken to the hospital. When he barely woke up, he instantly felt an emptiness and aching pain in his stomach while his eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar surroundings. He moved his hand and found an IV. God, why do I need all this... Osamu lay in such a suspended and uncertain state for another 15 minutes before a tall, dark-haired, pale figure in a long medical gown entered the room. Dazai mentally calculated - the guy was his age, no more than 24 years old. Dazai stared at him defiantly, ready to protest and rage, but stopped short, noticing that the doctor seemed especially serious and tired. Good morning, Osamu Dazai. Yes, I know your name, the doctor said immediately, cutting off the guy’s path to any questions. My name is Fyodor, I am your attending physician.