Breathe in... Ha... ha...
My eyes slowly fluttered open. I could feel my hands twitching as I regained consciousness. My breathing steadied, but I had no idea where I was.
The room felt cold and warm at the same time—a strange combination. I sat up, brushing my hair from my face, but my eyes went wide with shock.
"AAAAHHH!" I yelled in panic, my heart racing. My hair—it was black! My beautiful white hair was gone! I couldn't believe what I was seeing. What had happened to me? What did they do?
The door creaked open, and a woman entered the room. She was the girl who was always in the boy's mind—the one who knew more than she let on.
"Why are you yelling?" she asked, her voice calm and almost soothing. It contrasted sharply with the chaos inside my head.
"Who dyed my hair black?! Where's my beautiful white hair?!" I shouted, feeling a surge of anger and confusion. My identity was tied to that hair, and now it was gone.
The woman looked at me with confusion, tilting her head as if studying me.
"I see, you're that 'being' who I fought before, aren't you?" she said, her voice cool and analytical. How could she recognize me just from my appearance? She was unnervingly perceptive.
I looked away, feeling the weight of her gaze. "How..." I started, my words trailing off. I wasn't sure how to navigate this new reality.
"...???" she waited, clearly expecting me to finish my question.
"How... how are your wounds?" I finally managed to ask. It was the only thing that came to mind, but it seemed like a decent way to steer the conversation away from my hair crisis.
The girl smiled slightly, a gentle curve that softened her stern expression. "No need to worry," she replied, her voice warm.
"How come you're the one in here? Where's Lucian?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as if she was trying to read my thoughts. The way she looked at me made me feel uncomfortable, like I was being examined under a microscope.
"Tch. Why are you asking about him? I'm the one who's here," I shot back, feeling defensive. The whole situation was unsettling, and I wasn't sure how much I could trust this woman.
She sighed, her calm demeanor not faltering. "What's your name, then?" she asked, her voice patient but insistent.
I paused. Name? I should have a name, but for some reason, it wasn't coming to me. I could feel a blank spot in my mind where my identity should be.
"Name...?" I echoed, trying to remember, but it was like reaching into a dark void.
"Don't you have a name?" she asked again, her voice gentle but curious. I could sense her eyes on me, and I sighed, turning to look out the window. The sky was a dull gray, matching the uncertainty I felt inside.
"If you don't have a name, can I give you one?" she offered, her tone almost playful. I turned to glare at her, not appreciating how she seemed to make decisions for me without my consent. My frown deepened, my frustration evident.
A name, huh?
"Flower."
"Wait, what?" I frowned in disdain. "Flower," she repeated, smiling with clear satisfaction in her choice.
"No! I don't like it. You can't possibly call me that!" I protested, feeling my frustration bubble up.
"Why not? I think it suits you," she replied, her tone teasing. It was as if she was enjoying the discomfort it caused me.
I pouted, wanting to move closer to show her how much I didn't appreciate the name, but my body felt weak, and my hand gave way.
I stumbled, losing my balance, and fell face-first... right into her chest. My face sank in between, and I was instantly mortified.
"Ah!" I tried to pull back, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The awkwardness was palpable, and I could hear her soft chuckle above me.
"See? Just like a flower," she said, clearly amused by the situation. I could hear the humor in her voice, but I was too busy trying to regain my composure to respond.
With a gentle push, I managed to right myself, my face red and my heart racing. This was not how I expected the day to go, and it wasn't helping my case against the name "Flower."
I could almost hear her laughing in her head, enjoying the whole scene. This woman had a way of getting under my skin, and it was driving me insane.
I turned around, my cheeks still burning with embarrassment. This day was not turning out the way I had planned. I couldn't believe I'd ended up face-first in Lykon's chest.
"The poison inside you, can you feel it?" she asked, her voice serious yet calm.
"I don't know who did this, but my brother told me about it. It's deadly. In the first hour, you'll feel weak. In the second, you'll start to go numb. By the third hour, your thoughts will become unclear."
"Stop," I interrupted, not liking where this was heading. "Who do you think I am?"
"Flower," she replied without missing a beat, her expression unwavering.
"Not that!!!" I retorted, clearing my throat to regain some composure. It was humiliating to be called something like that, especially given my current predicament.
"I'm an immortal being!" I declared, trying to sound convincing. Technically, I was sort of stuck in limbo between life and death, but I wanted to sound cool. "I can handle this." Though my confidence wavered when I glanced at my shaking hand and remembered the dizziness that hit me earlier.
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Immortal, huh?" she replied, her tone filled with skepticism. "I guess that means you don't need my help, then?"
I was about to respond when I felt another wave of dizziness, my stomach lurching uncomfortably. I gripped the edge of the clinic bed, trying to steady myself without drawing too much attention.
"Just a minor setback," I said, doing my best to sound confident. "I just need a moment to... recalibrate." It was clear that my bravado wasn't fooling anyone, but I didn't want to admit that I might need her help.
Especially not after my dramatic declaration about being immortal.