Like a fool, you died, and several days have passed. The somewhat delayed funeral has only just begun, and I am forced to face reality once again. Perhaps it is the result of my indifference toward you all this time; I only just realized that you had no family and no friends. As if the empty funeral hall were your very heart, it continues to exhale chilled air without a hint of heating.

Should I be happy, or should I be sad? If I were to be happy, the face in that funeral portrait should have been mine. Even while these thoughts race through my head, the desolate air feels like it's tightening around my windpipe. Did you live your life feeling only this? Suffocated, cold, and wanting to think of nothing at all. If this was your life, I should have realized it. That no matter how much you cried or couldn't breathe every night, there was no one who came to find you—not a single person, not even me.

Trying my best to ignore the still desolate and chilly air, I fell asleep.

And when I opened my eyes, what I saw... was none other than the ceiling of my office. No matter how much I look around in confusion, it is definitely my office. ...After staring blankly for a long time, I pick up the phone in front of me to check the date. ...This makes no sense. Is this even possible? No matter how many times I look, the date on the phone has returned to one week ago. One week before you died.