In the quiet hush of the Rose Academy medical ward, the sterile scent of potions and soft antiseptic herbs hung faintly in the air.
The white sheets rustled as Amelia slowly stirred, her eyelids heavy with fatigue, lashes damp with sweat. She groaned softly, the dull ache behind her temples pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Her vision gradually focused on the faint glow of the enchanted lights embedded in the ceiling, then wandered to the side.
A woman with soft pink hair—one of the academy nurses—stood at a nearby desk, scribbling notes with brisk strokes, her pen tapping against the page with every punctuation.
Amelia blinked, confused. 'Wasn't I… at the black market? Why am I—'
The realization hit her like a jolt. 'This is Rose Academy.'
She coughed lightly, trying to gain the nurse's attention. Her throat was parched, voice cracking slightly.
