'Why Do I Feel Sore?'

"And it just… went away? Just like that?"

Florian drifted between consciousness and darkness, the voices around him echoing as if from a great distance. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt too heavy, weighed down by something unseen. The world remained black—formless.

"Yes, Sir Lancelot. As I said, His Majesty and I were able to develop an antidote. As you can see, he's sleeping soundly."

"You didn't touch him… did you?"

'Touch… who?' The words stirred something in Florian's mind, but everything was sluggish, as if his thoughts were submerged in water.

"L-Lord Lucius, that is absurd!" Lysander's voice rose, indignant. "I would never—! And His Majesty was with me the whole time."

'His Majesty… so Heinz?'

Silence settled over the room. Thick. Heavy. The unease in the air was almost tangible.