Chapter 320

Volume 2 Ch 60: My Head Hurts

A 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󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄂headache.

It ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂felt as though his consciousness had sunk to the bottom of warm, viscous honey, and it took tremendous effort for him to struggle back to the surface. His eyelids were as heavy as though they had been filled with lead. Ryan spent several seconds before he barely managed to open them a slit.

Blurred ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂light seeped through the gaps in the heavy curtains, cutting out floating motes of dust in the air. He stared at those slowly spinning golden specks, his mind completely blank.

Last ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂night… it seemed he had dreamed many things.

Chaotic, ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂broken, and yet filled with a comfort that made one sink into it.

At ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂one moment, it felt as though he were floating in boundless warm seawater, the gentle waves lifting every limb and bone. At another, it felt as though he were drifting in a hot spring veiled by white mist, every pore in his body opening. Then, at another moment, it seemed as though he were galloping across an endless grassland, the wind brushing past his ears and carrying the scent of green grass and freedom.

The feeling was very unreal, like peering at bliss through a layer of soft frosted glass. Yet the lingering, lazy satisfaction left in his body was so clear.

He slowly exhaled a turbid breath and propped himself up with his arms.

Silky fabric slid from his body, bringing a trace of coolness.

He lowered his head and discovered that he was wearing an unfamiliar silk sleeping robe of excellent material, not the slightly formal clothes he had worn last night. Beneath him was not the rough velvet surface of the study sofa either, but a soft, wide bed. The sheets seemed to have been changed to a deeper color, cool and smooth to the touch.

Ryan yawned and instinctively reached up to rub his swollen temples, his gaze sweeping over the low table beside the bed.

A glass of clear water had been placed there. In the dim light, it shone with a clean luster. The temperature of the water was just right, neither hot nor cold. Only after drinking several mouthfuls did his dry throat finally feel somewhat better.

He lifted the quilt and got out of bed. His bare feet stepped onto the soft carpet, still feeling a little unsteady.

He walked to the window and pulled the heavy curtains open with a swish. Dazzling daylight instantly flooded in, making him narrow his eyes. Outside, the sky was already bright. Judging by the sun, it was likely close to noon.

When he turned and returned to the bedside, he discovered that on the chair at the other side, a brand-new set of outdoor casual clothes had been neatly folded. Everything was complete from the inner garments to the outer layer, and even a suitable belt and boots had been prepared. Beside them, on a small silver tray, lay a few of his personal belongings.

Who prepared these? When were they prepared?

He frowned. His memory seemed to be covered by a layer of thick fog, many details blurred beyond recognition.

He only vaguely remembered that Cecilia seemed to have come by, bringing wine with her. She had said some things about the Imperial Capital, about the future, and about the hidden undercurrents beneath it all.

Then they had drunk. The wine had indeed been mellow and distinctive, and its aftereffects seemed rather strong…

After that, his memories became fragmented and ambiguous.

He shook his head, trying to dispel those irritating, indistinct fragments. When he lowered his head to change clothes, his fingers unconsciously brushed across his chest. Even through the fabric, he could feel the black dragon scale pressed tightly against his skin, radiating a continuous warmth, as though it were slowly pulsing.

Forget it. There is no point thinking about it. It was probably because Bloodred Echo had too strong an aftereffect, and I have been too tired lately.

After changing into clean, comfortable clothes, he pushed open the door and left what was clearly the master bedroom. Outside was a quiet corridor, the air fresh. He walked toward the familiar washroom, and when he passed the study from last night, he instinctively glanced at it.

The door was tightly closed, and everything inside was silent.

He washed his face properly with cold water. The chill stimulated his skin, finally clearing his muddled mind considerably.

When he arrived at the dining room, several refreshing dishes had already been arranged on the long table, still steaming hot. He sat down and began eating. His movements were not especially fast, but he was very focused, as though trying to fill some kind of emptiness with food.

Halfway through the meal, the old butler appeared silently at the entrance to the dining room, dressed in a tailcoat with his hair combed meticulously back. He bowed slightly.

“My lord, do you plan to return to the academy today?”

Ryan swallowed the food in his mouth and nodded. “Yes. Is the carriage ready?”

“Yes, my lord. It is already waiting outside the side gate. Several changes of clothes and some daily necessities prepared for you have also been placed in the carriage,” the butler replied in a steady tone.

At that moment, a young maid walked over carrying an exquisite wicker food box and gently placed it beside the dining table.

“My lord, these are snacks prepared for you to eat on the road.”

“Mm, understood.” Ryan answered, his voice still carrying a little hoarseness from having just woken and a hint of absent-mindedness. He continued eating the remaining food on his plate at an unhurried pace. His movements were not fast, as though each bite required careful savoring—or perhaps he was simply using the act of eating to help himself become a little more awake.

After finishing the meal, he picked up the napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth before standing.

The maid standing beside him immediately handed over a white towel that had been soaked in warm water and wrung half-dry.

He accepted it and wiped his hands. The warm dampness scattered the last trace of lingering haze in his mind.

After handing the towel back, he seemed to suddenly remember something and turned toward the butler, who had been quietly waiting at one side.

“By the way, while I am away, remember to tend the flowers and plants in the courtyard according to the list I gave you earlier. Especially the flowerbeds in the southeast corner where the soil was newly turned. The list marks the soil mixing ratio and the daily sunlight requirements. Be careful and do not mix them up.”

“Yes, my lord. Please rest assured. We will tend them carefully according to your requirements,” the butler said with a slight bow. Behind him, the row of maids dressed in plain, neat skirts also curtsied in unison, their movements perfectly coordinated and clearly well trained.

Ryan nodded. His gaze swept over the butler’s lowered eyelids, and a vague thought surfaced in his mind, causing him to speak almost unconsciously.

“Also, Princess Cecilia came by last night, correct?”

The butler maintained his bowed posture. Hearing the question, his head seemed to lower by the slightest fraction.

“Yes. Her Highness the Princess came to visit last night and spoke with you in the study. Later, you seemed unable to hold your liquor and fell drunk first. Her Highness instructed us to take good care of you. The servants changed your clothes and sent you back to the bedroom to rest.”

So that was what happened…

The faint confusion between Ryan’s brows seemed to disperse somewhat. No wonder he had woken up in the bedroom, already changed into different clothes.

He had been drunk, then? Bloodred Echo’s aftereffect was actually that strong? He had even lost consciousness so thoroughly that he had no memory of how he returned to his room or had his clothes changed.

Was Cecilia’s tolerance that good? Better than his?

He asked no further questions and merely nodded to the butler again. Then he picked up the exquisite wicker food box the maid had already prepared nearby and turned toward the outside of the dining room.

The sunlight was just right, spilling golden across the carefully paved pebble path in the courtyard, illuminating the neatly trimmed shrubs on both sides and the newly blooming flower buds.

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