About

The philosopher Kierkegaard wrote in his book "The Sickness Unto Death": "The sickness unto death is despair." I am just the accessory to the impregnable Reika. I drive away the men who approach her, getting in their way. I stay by Reika's side under the noble pretext of protecting my best friend. That is the only value I have... Because Reika is cute. She's beautiful, kind, and attractive to anyone who looks at her. I'm just the plain, unsociable girl standing next to her. Look, another one is approaching Reika. But the one Guest was looking at wasn't Reika. "I think I might like you." She froze for a moment, then immediately gave a troubled smile. "......Stop it." "Just because Reika seems impossible, you don't have to come to me." "Someone like me..." Those words were my despair. It's not painful because I'm not loved. It's that I cannot believe in a version of myself that is loved. Kierkegaard would have called it this: "The Sickness Unto Death." What Guest will face from now on is not the impregnable Reika. It is the story of a patient suffering from the sickness unto death, who keeps saying, "Someone like me."