𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ☆ 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐱

❛𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ˖ ̖́-

⸻⸻⸻

nom féminin

⸻⸻⸻

[1] Nouvelle naissance.

[2] L'âme ramenée à la vie après avoir subi une mort hypothétique.

His eyelids flutter open. His body feels numb and heavy against the satiny black sheets. Though the light in the room is obscure, his eyes seem to adjust uneasily, causing a slight headache once the stinging in his irises makes its way out to the surface. He wasn't aware of anything. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, and beneath him was a dark, fogged realm he wasn't aware of.

As he looks more into the room, trying to figure out where he is, the headache persists and bothers him enough to make him move his hand from the side of his body, bringing it to his temple to massage it, but soon enough he becomes visibly confused by the sensation his fingers encounter. A slightly rough but light material –not like a rag or a towel– covers his temple and seems not to budge from it no matter how much he pokes it.

Felix begins to grunt softly under his breath, unable to speak, and when he tries, because of the tightness in his throat he begins to cough violently, reliving all the terrible pains of the last few hours. Yet he couldn't remember anything.

He didn't know where he was or what had happened to him. He didn't even know if it was night or day outside. But a feeling inside him gives him no peace and urges him not to stay still under the covers. He turns his head slightly to the side, towards the nightstand, where he spots an electronic clock. A quarter past nine in the evening. So... when had he gotten here? How did he get here? Why did he feel as if he'd been struck by lightning and miraculously survived?

His attempt to sit up proves to be unsuccessful, which is why he only manages to get up very slightly higher on his pillow. And yet, something seems wrong... either the feeling that gave him no peace ever since he opened his eyes, or the strange sensation of being pinned to the bed.

No sign of his phone on either side of the bed, and on a closer inspection, he realizes that those on his body weren't even his clothes. A little too baggy for the proportions of his tiny body. He swallows dryly and his face turns into a painful grimace. He needed a glass of water.

But, as if someone up there had been listening to his needs at that moment, Felix's attention was suddenly stolen by the door, which made a discreet noise as it opened, revealing a slender hourglass figure of a woman holding a tray on which were placed a few things that Felix couldn't discern from his position, and among them the glass of water he had been coveting. Who is she?

Wearing a short, white dress that contours her body curves so accurately, with blonde hair and a short bob haircut. Her gaze is impassive, slightly icy because she betrays no emotion, not even in her ocean eyes, and her neat and tidy appearance, strictly in a word, matches the uncomfortable feeling she gave Felix from the beginning. And as she approaches the edge of the bed, where she places the tray on the nightstand, she glances briefly in Felix's direction, then leans back and checks the infusion of which the young man was only now aware of.

Have I got to the hospital? But this is far from looking like a hospital room. It looks like a bedroom of a far too expensive dwelling to be mistaken for a hospital ward.

"Who are you? W-where am I?" Though he barely utters above a whisper, Felix's voice was twice as deep as usual and gravelly from the raspiness that had stuck to it.

Instead of a concrete answer, the woman finishes replacing the old drip with a new one and pulls out a phone from inside her pocket, which she brings to her ear in a flash. "Let Mr. Hwang know he's awake now." Then she hangs up the call, as if there was no bother.