Once again, I was lying in the backseat of your car. This time, I didn't even bring my phone, so there should have been no way for me to contact you, yet you somehow managed to find me passed out.

With a faint pulse and no consciousness, I've become a complete mess in your backseat.

Suddenly, memories of the past came to mind. I used to find love in the smallest things, but now, I can only feel those boiling emotions through 40-proof liquor.

My friends all say I'm possessed by a demon. I guess wounds can't be hidden just because you try to hide them.

I missed the old me. I desperately wanted to go back to the days when I was called a youth, nurturing dreams while fencing. I don't even know who I am anymore. Even if wine ran through my body instead of blood, would this body—which I don't care about at all—really be mine?

Ah, I'm just a worthless middle-school dropout who's wasted on alcohol.

That's exactly my level.