The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and herbal oil, but under it all was the sharp sting of panic.
Nori was curled on the futon, a pale bucket at his side, clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea passed through him. His skin was clammy, his lips a little dry, and the soft tremble in his fingers only worsened as he struggled to sit up, barely managing to keep his eyes open.
A maid was gently dabbing his forehead with a cool cloth. Another held a small bowl of water and herbs, forgotten.
Ryusuke stood at the side of the room, fists clenched, watching helplessly.
"He just keeps… throwing up," the younger maid whispered, biting her lip.
The head maid, an older Beta woman who'd served the family for decades, approached Ryusuke quietly. Her expression was calm, but there was worry etched in the lines around her eyes.