"!"
As his eyes opened on a now-familiar ceiling, Noah reached an unbelievable conclusion: somehow, he had survived, and this time, he knew perfectly well where he was.
The gem-like lamp on his ceiling radiated a blinding, pure white light, adding to his confusion. For a long moment, he stared at the many pieces of furniture in his room, unable to form any coherent thoughts aside from a rather persistent question.
"(What was I thinking about again?)"
The thought refused to leave his mind as his eyes wandered around the room. He stared at the study table—just a bit too high for him. His gaze shifted to the tea table, which he only ever used to spill or destroy a cup of tea. Then, to the clock on the wall, its ticking inexplicably reminding him of butter and bread. His attention flicked to the woman with pink eyes, half-hidden behind the door, and then to the bookshelf Momo had built for him, though it was mostly filled with books about getting a good night's sleep.
