Chapter 185 CHAPTER 185

Chapter 185 CHAPTER 185
Lilia's POV

I woke up with chills that day, with an unsettling feeling that something was not quite right with me. It wasn't simply the kind of discomfort that came from a bad night's sleep. There was something strange about the way my body felt. I was too sensitive, too restless, as though something beneath my skin was struggling to wake.

At first, I blamed the weather. I pulled on a double cardigan and wrapped my arms around myself, hoping the extra layers would stop the shivering. But the cold wouldn't leave. If anything, it seemed to come from somewhere deeper.

Then the headache started.

It began as a dull throbbing behind my eyes, but within an hour, it had intensified until every movement sent pain through my skull. Sounds that normally wouldn't have bothered me suddenly seemed unbearably loud. Even the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen made me wince.

At some point, I realized I couldn't step out of the house. With trembling fingers, I picked up my phone and called work to ask for permission to be absent.

The manager didn't seem pleased.

"It's just your second month here, Lilia, and you're already taking permission. Who is going to cover your tables?"

Before I could explain myself, he dropped the call. I stared at the phone for a moment, too exhausted to feel angry. Then I let it fall onto the mattress and slumped back against my pillows.

I fixed my gaze on the ceiling. Or at least, I tried to. The room seemed to tilt slightly, and I blinked several times. The ceiling appeared to drift sideways before settling again. My stomach churned, and I pressed a hand against my temple.

What was happening to me?

I closed my eyes, hoping the dizziness would pass, but doing so only made everything worse. My hearing seemed unnaturally sharp. I could hear the faint ticking of the wall clock, the distant movement of someone outside, even the pipes groaning somewhere inside the building. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.

Something about my senses felt wrong.

A few hours later, it became clear that I couldn't simply hope this feeling of unwellness would disappear. My body was getting weaker, and the heat beneath my skin seemed to be increasing despite the chills that continued to shake me.

So I called the only friend I knew who was also my neighbor. She arrived not long afterward. The moment she walked into the apartment and saw me, she gasped.

"Lilia!"

She rushed toward me and placed her palm against my forehead. Her expression changed instantly.

"You need to go to the hospital, Lilia," she said. "You are burning."

I groaned weakly and turned my face away from her hand. Even the brief contact seemed strangely intense against my overheated skin.

"Have you eaten anything all day?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"No. Not a bite."

She stared at me for a moment, clearly annoyed but more worried than anything else.

"Of course you haven't."

She disappeared into the kitchen before I could protest. And a few minutes later, the smell of soup drifted into the room. The scent seemed to hit me with unusual force. My stomach tightened, and I could distinguish every ingredient in the pot—the herbs, the stock, the vegetables—far more clearly than I ever had before.

She returned with a bowl and helped me sit upright.

"Slowly," she instructed.

I took the bowl from her with unsteady hands and began to drink. The warmth spread through my throat and settled in my stomach. I expected the nausea to worsen, but thankfully, it didn't. I was able to keep the soup down.

I leaned back against the headboard and closed my eyes. I felt a tiny measure of relief.

After a few minutes, with some of my strength regained, I began to feel as though I could survive the day. My friend, however, wasn't convinced.

"You have to go to the hospital now that you have the strength to go," she insisted.

I wanted to argue, but the look on her face stopped me. She was right. Whatever was happening to me wasn't something I could simply sleep off.

So I went.

I took a cab and got dropped a few blocks away from the hospital. The traffic was terrible, and rather than sit in the cab for another twenty minutes, I decided to walk the remaining distance.

The city seemed louder than it normally did. Cars passed several streets away, yet I could hear their tires against the asphalt. I could even pick up fragments of conversations from pedestrians as they walked behind me.

I shook my head. Maybe the fever was affecting me. I kept walking. I had just taken a corner onto the street where the hospital was when a van slowed beside me.

I barely paid attention to it at first. The driver's window rolled down.

"Hello," the driver called.

I stopped and glanced toward him.

"I'm trying to get directions to the mall."

I frowned.

"I don't know what mall," I replied.

The words had barely left my mouth when the side door of the van suddenly flew open.

Before I could react, a hand shot out and grabbed me.

"What—?"

I was yanked sideways with such force that my feet left the ground. I tried to scream, but another hand clamped firmly over my mouth.

I kicked wildly, twisting my body in an attempt to break free. For one brief second, something inside me responded to the fear—a strange surge of strength that made the men holding me hesitate. But it wasn't enough.

A sharp, unfamiliar scent filled my nose. It was metallic and bitter, and the moment I inhaled it, my head began to swim. The world blurred. I heard the van door slam shut.

Someone said something, but the words sounded distant, as though I were hearing them from underwater. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

Then everything went black.