Later in the Morning
A dull ache pulsed in his head.
As Ryo slowly opened his eyes, the sensation sharpened into a pounding headache. A heavy, unsettling feeling settled over him, his body protesting every movement with a deep, throbbing pain.
Shit…
He tried to sit up, but the moment he lifted his head, a wave of dizziness slammed into him, forcing him back onto the pillow. His body felt unbearably sluggish—every muscle sore, as if he had run a marathon in his sleep.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, despite the cool morning air drifting in through the open window. His breathing was uneven.
Ryo rubbed his temples, trying to ease the pressure in his skull, but the pain only grew stronger.
What the hell…?
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Realizing he was in no condition to move, Ryo let out a weak sigh and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Maybe if he just rested a little longer, this awful feeling would pass.
He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, but sleep came in scattered fragments—broken by flashes of pain and strange, vivid dreams that faded the moment he tried to grasp them.
Time blurred. By the time the afternoon sun poured through the window, his condition had only worsened.
His body burned with fever, yet he shivered beneath the covers. Every muscle, every joint, every nerve in his body throbbed as if he were being torn apart from the inside. His breathing came in shallow gasps, his vision blurred at the edges. Even keeping his eyes open felt like a struggle.
His skin was too hot. His head, too heavy.
What's happening to me…?
A desperate thought surfaced—was this some delayed side effect from the experiment? But his mind was too foggy to think. Too exhausted to find an answer.
All he could do was endure.
Desperate for relief, Ryo forced himself to sit up. The moment he moved, a sharp pain shot through his body, leaving him breathless. His arms trembled as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, fingers barely responding as he struggled to unlock it.
Should he call for help?
His fever-clouded mind hesitated. The thought of reaching out felt distant, almost unreal. His body was burning up, yet the next moment, an icy chill crawled over his skin, making him shudder violently.
He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but his chest felt tight. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and a creeping sense of panic began to rise. His strength was slipping away—faster than he could understand.
Fuck…
It was as if his entire body was turning against him. His muscles ached, throbbing with an unbearable tension, as if stretched beyond their limits. He could barely move. Every inch of him screamed in pain, the pounding in his head growing worse with each second.
Sweat soaked through his sheets, yet the chill in his bones only deepened. The fever was relentless, consuming him from the inside out.
And he had no idea what was happening to him.
Every attempt to rise sent a sharp, stabbing pain through his body, forcing him to stay down. His vision blurred slightly, and he blinked hard, struggling to focus. His mind felt foggy, drowning in relentless discomfort.
By the time evening shadows stretched across his apartment, his condition had worsened. His head throbbed as if it were being crushed, the unbearable pressure making it impossible to think. His entire body was on fire—muscles tense and trembling from the sheer intensity of the pain.
The fever had only climbed higher, leaving him dazed, disoriented. His skin, clammy with sweat, burned with heat, and his pulse pounded erratically beneath his skin, each beat sending fresh waves of agony through him. He could barely open his eyes now. Every blink felt like needles piercing into his skull.
Through the fevered haze, he tried to think. What happened?
Had something gone wrong with the test?
Desperate for relief, Ryo forced himself out of bed, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. Every step felt like wading through thick mud, his body heavy with exhaustion.
He stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the sink for support as he splashed cold water on his face. The coolness sent a brief shock through his system, offering a fleeting moment of clarity—but it didn't last. Another wave of dizziness crashed over him, forcing him to tighten his grip on the porcelain, his breath ragged and uneven.
When he finally dared to look up at the mirror, his heart nearly stopped.
His reflection… wasn't normal.
Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, wide and unfocused. His skin had taken on a sickly, almost ghostly pallor, and deep shadows clung beneath his eyes, making his face look hollow, lifeless. It was as if all the energy had been drained from his body overnight.
Ryo swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tremble in his hands. His fingers dug into the sink, knuckles white.
"What the hell… is happening to me?"
His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. He blinked, hoping—praying—it was just the fever warping his vision. But no matter how many times he looked away and back, the stranger in the mirror remained the same.
Sickly. Weak. Unrecognizable.
Gripping the edge of the sink, Ryo felt his stomach lurch. A wave of nausea rolled through him, sharp and relentless. The room tilted, spinning wildly, and he clenched his eyes shut, willing the sensation to pass.
But it didn't.
His balance wavered, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Whatever was happening to him—it was beyond anything he'd ever experienced.
With staggering steps, he forced himself back to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress. The moment his body hit the sheets, violent tremors wracked his frame. A scorching heat flared from deep within, burning through his muscles, pulsing like molten fire in his veins. Every inch of him screamed in pain, sweat pouring from his skin in thick, suffocating waves.
He tried to call out, to scream—but his voice was gone. Nothing more than a ragged whisper that vanished into the still air.
His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges of his awareness. His body felt foreign, like a prison locking him inside, betraying him as it buckled beneath the fever's merciless grip.
Move. He had to move.
With the last of his strength, Ryo forced his arm to stretch toward the nightstand. His fingers barely brushed the phone before it slipped from his grasp, tumbling to the floor with a hollow thud.
He stared at it—so close, yet impossibly far. The dim glow of the screen flickered once, then faded.
As the night wore on, Ryo remained unconscious, his body trapped between burning heat and chilling cold. His breathing was rough and shallow, each breath echoing softly in the stillness of his apartment. Sweat drenched his sheets, but no amount of warmth or cool air could bring him comfort.
Strange, feverish dreams swirled through his mind—dark, shifting images that he couldn't quite recognize. Shadowy figures appeared and vanished, their voices murmuring words he couldn't understand. Faces flickered in and out, blurred and distant, slipping away whenever he tried to focus on them.
His body ached. His mind felt like it was sinking, pulled deeper into the fever's grip. No matter how much he wanted to wake up, the darkness refused to let him go.
( End of Chapter )