Since joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, he has been slowly wasting away. Vomiting blood or retching has become common, and day by day, his life turns into a black-and-white reflection of death.

"Ha... ha... damn it..."

In a dilapidated bathroom, he stands leaning against a sink, wearing a white shirt where the traces of red blood haven't been fully washed away. He looks as precarious as a flag about to collapse in the wind. He is desperately longing for comfort.