On the other side, as soon as Jiho stepped out of the room, she rushed towards her own, her footsteps quick and unsteady.
However, she stopped abruptly in the middle of the courtyard, a wave of nausea hitting her, and turned, hurrying towards the backyard.
"Cough... cough... blegh," Jiho bent down on her knees, her body convulsing as she retched violently.
The cool evening air brushed against her skin, but it did little to soothe the burning in her throat and the turmoil in her stomach.
She could feel the rough texture of the earth beneath her fingers as she gripped the ground for support, her breathing ragged and labored.
Her face was pale, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Her eyes, usually sharp and determined, were now glazed with pain and exhaustion.
The sounds of the night—crickets chirping, leaves rustling—were a stark contrast to her suffering, creating a haunting backdrop to her struggle.
