Orla:

  I was floating again. Drifting through a haze where time didn’t seem to matter. Everything was disjointed, fragments of memories and moments swirling around me. I could hear voices—familiar ones—but they were muffled, slipping away before I could make sense of them.

  General Haruto was there, pacing the room. His silhouette stood out against the dim light, his figure a constant presence, like a storm cloud that wouldn’t leave. Why was he here? My thoughts felt heavy, tangled in confusion, but I couldn’t piece anything together. I tried to call out, to ask him what was happening, but no sound escaped my lips. My mouth felt dry, like I hadn’t spoken in days.

  Then, out of nowhere, I saw another figure—someone else in the distance, someone I recognized.

  Milo.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to reach for him, but my body wouldn’t move. I wanted to say his name, to call out to him, but my voice failed me again. Why couldn’t I speak? He was so close, yet so far away. I blinked, desperate to understand what was happening. The world around me shifted again, and Milo came closer, his face soft but urgent.

  He leaned over me, holding something to my lips. I could feel it—a sweet, sharp medicinal taste on my tongue. Whatever it was, it burned slightly as it slid down my throat. The sweetness lingered, and yet… there was something comforting about it. The taste reminded me of the forest, of the fresh pine and earth, but with subtle peppermint undertones. I tried to focus, to hold on to the familiarity of it, but everything around me was fading in and out like a dream I couldn’t control.

  As the flavor settled in my mouth, I realized the sick, overwhelming feeling that had been pressing down on me was starting to subside. The nausea, the dizziness, it all slowly ebbed away. The feverish heat that had clung to me began to lift, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t drowning in it anymore. Instead, I felt calm. Peaceful, even.

  Was this… rest?

  The warmth of the bed beneath me became more real, more tangible. I sank deeper into the feeling, my body finally easing into something that felt like true sleep. I could feel the tension melting away, my mind no longer spinning in fevered circles. It was quiet. I felt safe.

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  But just as I was about to surrender fully to the peace, everything shifted.

  My eyes snapped open, and I was no longer in that strange, dreamlike place. The room around me was clear now, dim but real. The soft light flickered from the corner, casting shadows across the walls. I blinked, disoriented, my heart pounding as I tried to piece together what had just happened.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said softly, pulling my attention to the side of the sleeping mat. Gyeong was hovering over me, her face pale, her hands carefully wiping my forehead with a damp cloth.

  I stared at her, my mind still foggy. Everything felt wrong, out of place. “What… what happened?” I whispered, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears.

  Gyeong didn’t meet my eyes right away. She kept her focus on the cloth in her hands, gently dabbing at my skin as if she didn’t want to answer. The last thing I remembered was… the king. His hands on me. The room. Panic surged through me as I thought back to that night.

  “The king,” I croaked, my throat tightening. “What… what happened to him?”

  Gyeong paused, her hand faltering for just a moment. But it was enough. Her movements were too controlled, too deliberate. She wrung the cloth out in the bowl of water beside her and finally met my gaze. Her expression was blank, carefully composed, but there was something beneath it—something uneasy.

  “The king is fine,” she said, her voice flat.

  I blinked, trying to process her words. Fine? How could that be? I wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but something stopped me. The way Gyeong’s hands were trembling slightly as she wrung out the cloth again caught my attention. Her fingers shook, and she quickly pulled them away from the bowl, as though afraid I might notice.

  Was she… nervous?

  “Gyeong…” I started, sitting up slowly despite the ache in my body. “What’s going on?”

  But she didn’t answer. She avoided my gaze, gathering the bowl and cloth with careful precision. Her movements were quick, almost too quick, as she turned to leave the room. “You should rest, my lady,” she said over her shoulder, her voice soft but distant. “The fever took a toll on you.”

  And with that, she was gone, leaving me alone in the room. The door slid shut behind her, and I was left staring at the space where she had stood, the unease creeping through me.

  Something wasn’t right.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of it all.

  What had happened while I was out? What had I missed?

  And why did it feel like the world around me was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen?

  ?Sky Mincharo