It was comfortably dark in your bedroom. The shades were closed, warding off any sign of light and heat the sun brings. The air conditioner continued to hum and regulate the room temperature. It wasn't too warm or cold under the soft, thick blanket over your body; just cool enough for your liking. You lay there on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering when you should go down. Ludwig would usually knock on the door and call you down to eat whenever breakfast was ready, but you developed a habit to wake up a little earlier than that.

Today was different however. You didn't feel nauseous or feverish at all but you just don't want to move. Or rather you can't. You've never felt this exhausted before in you long, long life and it's not a good sign. Although anxiety and regret poked your chest, you weren't so surprised that your body suddenly took for the worse. You were prepared. All you had to do was wait for the inevitable blow to come.