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"Why do I make mistakes for the second time?"

King in Yellow splits himself into small pieces, trying to get rid of infection, but it doesn't seem to go away. And the more pieces he loses... the stronger it becomes.

Looking into his eyes, a real fire broke out in my soul. Gentle brown eyes with a devilish yellowness forced him to look again and again, once again doubting the correctness of his actions. Empathetic words, evening meetings and support — that's what finally melted her heart. And, deciding that there would be no better moment, Rumi, with bitter sadness in her eyes, stands on tiptoe and touches her lips in coral lipstick to the man's lips, which immediately curved into a surprised grin.

This is a story of a plain boring young man named Jon. He is not the main character, he is just an ordinary guy, he is a minor character of very little importance. He is whiny and pathetic. And yet, this story is happening from his point of view—something is clearly wrong here, isn't it? Is this even a story? Could it be not a story, but just a moment of someone else's dream or death? Or...?