Viktor's body had experienced a decline in well-being since he was afflicted by a 'disease' linked to his mental health.
Additionally, this downturn, impacting his daily nutrition, lack of proper sleep, and emotional onslaught colliding with unresolved issues stemming from events beyond human comprehension, had resulted in Viktor's body succumbing to a fever.
Wrestling with the shadows haunting his mind, Viktor lay sprawled on his bed, his body feeling hot and trembling.
Various erratic thoughts swirled in his head, making it challenging for him to focus on his surroundings. Faint sounds, akin to whispers of darkness, invaded the empty spaces in his mind.
Sweat beads dotted his forehead, evidence of the internal turmoil manifesting in the physical realm.
"Viktor, you couldn't escape the torment within," a haunting voice echoed in his mind, the words laced with a sinister edge.
"I wouldn't succumb to your whispers," Viktor muttered through gritted teeth, his voice strained with the effort to resist.
Yet, the fever exacerbated his fatigue, and he found himself caught in a dialogue with the relentless shadows.
"You couldn't resist forever. Embrace the chaos, Viktor," the voice persisted, its resonance weaving into the disarray of his thoughts.
Viktor clenched his fists, battling both the fever-induced weakness and the intangible force manipulating his mind.
"I wouldn't let you break me," he declared, even as his body trembled with the dual onslaught of physical and mental strain.
Amidst the pressure at the university and the verbal insults he faced, Viktor's sense of emptiness and mental burden had intensified. Adding to this, his job as a waiter demanded a constant display of smiles and top-notch service for the customers.
In the kitchen of the restaurant, a stout man with double chins and a neck engulfed in fat had loudly berated Viktor.
"Viktor, you useless fool! Couldn't you do anything right?" The overweight man's voice had reverberated in the kitchen, a harsh echo of dissatisfaction.
Viktor, beads of sweat on his forehead, had borne the brunt of the verbal assault, struggling to maintain composure. The mental and emotional weight he carried had amplified the impact of each harsh word.
"I need those orders out now! Your incompetence is holding up the entire kitchen," the man had continued, his face turning an angry shade of red.
The surrounding kitchen staff had averted their eyes, aware of Viktor's predicament but hesitant to intervene. Viktor, caught between the demands of his job and the turmoil within, had gritted his teeth, forcing a strained smile as he rushed to comply with the orders.
The relentless pressure, both from the kitchen and the unrelenting shadows in his mind, had woven a tapestry of torment around Viktor as he navigated the challenges of his daily life.
As Viktor had diligently presented the ordered dishes, the tirade from the assistant head chef had persisted.
"Hey, street rat! Did you think you were some wealthy brat playing at experiencing life?! I knew you were poor! So, why did I find a single strand of hair in a customer's food?!" The assistant chef had pointed an accusing finger at Viktor's chest, his gaze fierce, fueled either by a sense of seniority or a self-imposed authority.
Despite Viktor wearing a hairnet, he had responded wearily, devoid of emotion but visibly fatigued. "I apologize, sir. I believed I was running a high fever," he had uttered with a hint of a cough, attempting to convey his state of ill health.
Still, Viktor had moved mechanically, navigating through the demands of his job while grappling with the relentless shadows that haunted his mind.
"Oh, then what? Skipping work comes with a pay cut here. Are you okay with that? Well, suit yourself if you want to starve to death faster," the supervisor retorted, his tone brimming with authority.
The young man, now bearing a pallid complexion, carefully removed his apron and shed all the waiter gear.
He walked away with an air of nonchalance, paying little attention to the beet-red face of the assistant chef who was left in his wake.
Yet, Viktor, despite his weakened state, managed to take a moment to glance back at the bustling kitchen and uttered with a subtle defiance, "I work to live; death is the last option... maybe."
As he navigated his way through the kitchen's hustle and bustle, Viktor couldn't help but ponder aloud, "Suddenly got a fever, why, I wonder? After all... well, maybe I should be fine by today."
His murmurs blended with the clatter of pots and pans, disappearing into the chaotic symphony of the street.
Despite the relatively short distance between his workplace and home, Viktor found it increasingly challenging to resist the looming fatigue.
He stumbled his way towards his boarding house, each step marked by a sluggish gait and vision gradually blurring with every passing moment.
The once-familiar path now felt like a daunting journey, with each step carrying the weight of exhaustion, making the short distance seem like an arduous trek.
Upon reaching the entrance of his modest apartment in the flats, Viktor's eyes caught something intriguing.
Simultaneously, an indescribable sense of joy welled up within him.
He observed an awkward girl diligently hanging a plastic bag containing several neatly packed meal boxes—long-expiry instant noodles, as usual—on the doorknob of Viktor's rented room.
A subtle awkwardness enveloped Viktor, his mind wrestling with the mundane dilemma of whether to greet her or not.
Viktor waited for a moment, allowing her to notice him.
Vella seemed busy peeking through the keyhole of his room door, curiosity etched across her face. She appeared genuinely concerned.
"No wonder," Viktor mused to himself, "I frequently find food packages mysteriously appearing on my doorknob. All this time, I assumed it was the misdeed of some drunken neighbor mistakenly leaving a bag of food behind."
Then, Viktor gathered his courage and took a slow step forward to engage further. "Hi—"
Vella, the girl with her arms and shoulders adorned with an intricate tapestry of tattoos, jolted in surprise.
Viktor's unexpected presence caught her off guard, evoking an awkward response from the girl regarding her uncertainty in how to act.