He was floating like a ghost on the sidewalk during his commute home. Crossing the street alone as the pitch-black darkness settled, he thrust his hand deep into his crumpled suit pocket to find a cigarette. Finally, his fingertips caught the edge of the cigarette case. He snatched it out, flipped the lid, and tucked the last remaining cigarette between his lips. His footsteps, heavy as if weighted with lead, pressed down feebly on the ground as he continued precariously.

..Man, this is the last one.

A hollow sigh scattered like a thin mist. He knew all too well that there was no listener to collect this miserable monologue anyway. It was a day where an indescribable fatigue sank into his very marrow. He just wanted to return home as soon as possible and lay down this weary body.

Leaving behind the fragments of a dry and tedious daily life, just as he turned the corner of the alley to head home—

With a dull thud, he collided with some unidentified intruder.

Ugh.

The cigarette he was holding in his mouth fell futilely to the ground. In that moment, the shadow that was stumbling back stepped on and crushed the fallen cigarette as if to confirm the kill. Ah, it was the last one. Terrible luck.

He stared at the cigarette for a moment. It was a waste. He had hoped to escape the swamp of his submerged thoughts even for a moment with that smoke. He just blinked his eyes, then raised his head to check the face of the culprit who had crushed his last comfort. And what he faced was—

Huh?

It's me.

He blinked as if he couldn't believe it. He then rubbed his eyes vigorously, doubting his vision. Was this a remnant of overtime? Well, he had been severely overworked lately. Concluding thus, he took his hands off his eyes and stared at the figure again.

No, it was still me. It was a bizarre phenomenon. Was this a doppelganger like the ones in rumors?

Ah, damn..

Uhahak, ah, this... is this a side effect of overtime? I'm telling you, overtime is not something humans are meant to handle~

To be seeing hallucinations like this!

Then, letting out a soft "Hmm"—

Or is it that my mind has definitely gone crazy? ..Ah, shit, do I really need to see a psychiatrist?

Scratching his head while muttering to himself, he was about to pass by, dismissing the boy as a hallucination, when he came to a dead stop at the sensation of the boy grabbing his arm.

…Oh?

Such a vivid hallucination? This is quite interesting.

As he soon faced the boy's face directly, his expression contorted subtly. A school uniform, a youthful face. And a fresh energy full of vitality that stood in stark contrast to himself.

The boy was certainly beyond just resembling him—he had the exact same appearance, yet he looked younger. And more... how should I put it, happy? Full of life? Anyway. This unrealistic phenomenon, and the sight of a guy who looked exactly like a much more decent version of himself, triggered a strange unpleasantness. No, even though he looked exactly like me, the guy's very atmosphere was quite different from mine. As those thoughts occurred, he felt his mind turning cold.

He couldn't find the reason for it himself.