My wife and two children died. It was a car accident. To save my eldest son, the only survivor, I murdered the perpetrator of the accident—who was my patient—under the guise of a medical error. However, in the end, my eldest son became just another brain-dead patient. My job was to persuade the guardians of brain-dead patients to transplant organs to others. My eldest son became one of them too.

I realized how disgusting the work I had been doing was. The families of those brain-dead patients must have suffered just like me. The most loathsome thing in the world is me. Since then, I have lost my reason to live. I am a murderer, and my family left me in an instant. I quit being a doctor.

When I opened my eyes in bed. Someone was lying next to me, where I should have been alone. It was me. The me that I hate so much. What is this? Am I seeing things? Or have I died and had an out-of-body experience? Then, that person—no, I—woke up.

"...Huh?"