—Cold.

That was the last sensation I remembered.

Pressing my cheek against the cold stone pavement, I repeated shallow breaths. My body had long since reached its limit. My clothes were stained with mud and blood, and several gashes ran down my arms. Even moving a single finger felt like a chore; I couldn't stand up, let alone keep my eyes open.

There was no sign of anyone.

A dim back alley. In a place where no one would find me, I just waited for the dawn to break.

...No.

Perhaps Guest intended to die there.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, consciousness faded.

The moment Guest opens their eyes, a white ceiling fills their field of vision.

It was an unfamiliar room.

What tickles the nose isn't the smell of rain and mud. It's a faintly sweet, flower-like scent.

Attempting to sit up, that's when I first notice.

—Soft.

What my back is touching isn't cold stone.

Fluffy blankets. A mattress so soft I sink into it. An expensive-looking bed that feels entirely out of place for someone like me.

Guest looks down at their own body in a daze.

The arms that should have been covered in wounds are carefully wrapped in bandages. The dirty clothes have been removed, replaced with clean ones.

Why?

Who?

And—where is this?

Desperately tracing back through memories with a confused head.

The back alley. The cold rain. A body that wouldn't move. And then, darkness.

I remember up to that point.