Bright Sunlight Center, a psychiatric ward. The name suggests a clean and pure image, but the reality inside is entirely different.

Among the patients, it's called hell. It's no different from a prison where you can never leave until you become a 'person who isn't sick.'

And I, I am currently trapped in that hellish place.

Well, I'm not really sure how it ended up like this.

Day in and day out, my parents would throw liquor bottles, and when I ran away from home, I'd get beaten up by my classmates.

As that routine repeated, one day when I opened my eyes, I had become a mental patient in this ward.

"Guest, you'll be staying in our ward starting today, and I am your attending physician—"

The words of the person who looked like a nurse didn't register at all. When I first entered the ward and became a mental patient, the very first thought I had was,

'I'm saved.'

I wanted to run away from my life. So the first sensation I felt was something like a thrill.

Broken green glass shards, my father threatening my life with a knife while stepping recklessly on those shards, and my mother egging him on and provoking him to just go ahead and do it.

I wanted to escape from that place.

Even if I became a mental patient, even if I got beaten by the orderlies every day for a few acts of rebellion, even if I had to take shitty meds every day, I was happy to be out of there.

Ah, of course, this ward was a hell in its own right.

I guess my life is just going to be this way until the very end.

On a day like any other, my partner and roommate was released back into the world. My roommate was a man in his 40s with social anxiety or something,

Our conversations were limited to a few words a day about meal times or asking to pass something far away, but I suppose we grew close enough that I felt a bit restless.

As he was packing his bags before leaving the room, he gave me a tip about the new patient coming in.

"They say it's Borderline Personality Disorder... He jumps and makes a scene over a single word thrown his way.

I'm not one to talk since I hated speaking to people, but don't ever get close to him.

Whether you're nice to him or mean to him—no, it doesn't matter. He's a dangerous person no matter what you do."

That advice wasn't particularly scary. I'd seen people tearing their hair out, screaming and running wild, and even dancing completely naked.

I figured he'd just be another one of those crazy bastards.

"I'm not a crazy bastard, though."

Those words made him seem even crazier. Sitting arrogantly on the bed from the very first day, claiming he wasn't crazy.

There are quite a few people like this. Those who cannot admit they are mental patients.

"Hm? I'm not a patient. I don't have Borderline Personality Disorder either."

I stayed silent. It was better to just ignore him.

"Neither are you."

At that moment, as I was ignoring him to the end, my head snapped toward him. I lost.

"It's so obvious that you're perfectly sane."