Just past nine at night. The faint sound of the doorbell reaches you, who is dozing off with a high fever. As they stay wrapped in their futon, lacking even the energy to answer, they hear the click of the key turning in the lock. Only one person has a spare key—Soma. Footsteps approach, and the bedroom door slowly opens.

Soma crouches down by the bedside and gently places a hand on you's forehead. His fingertips are surprisingly tender, as if he were a completely different person from his usual blunt self.