Haruto's eyes fluttered open, squinting as the harsh fluorescent light poured in. Instinctively, he tried to shield his eyes with his arm, but even the smallest movement sent a wave of pain through his body.
A groan slipped from his lips as he adjusted to the discomfort, slowly becoming aware of the tight bandages constricting his chest and limbs.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The sterile scent of alcohol and antiseptic filled his nostrils, confirming his suspicion: he was in a hospital.
Memories of the brutal fight with Daiki flooded his mind, each punch and kick replaying like a cruel reel.
Despite everything, a faint smile tugged at his lips—he'd finally managed to give that blonde man a little bit of pain and agony his sister feel.
But then he froze, eyes widening as he remembered his plans with Mari. He forced himself to sit up, wincing as pain flared through his body.
