(Rem x Reader) Re:Reader - Starting YOUR New Life in Another World

Chapter 173: Steeple Over Troubled Water

Ever so slightly, the twinkle of bright sunlight gently pined at his closed eyes, beckoning him to awake as he lay in bed. He tried to keep his eyes shut, even turning his head away from the intrusive rays in an effort to preserve the last remnants of his sleep. Yet the unfamiliar sensations surrounding him gradually stirred his curiosity, drawing him further from slumber until remaining asleep became more trouble than it was worth.

YN: Nmmmgghh...

Gone was the damp, frigid rubble beneath his backside, the last thing he remembered resting against before consciousness had abandoned him. In its place was the warm, soft embrace of a neatly made bed, with a pillow of equal comfort cradling his head. He drew a deep breath through his nose, taking in the clean scent of freshly laundered linens mingled with the delicate fragrance of flowers in bloom. Even before he opened his eyes, his hands began to wander over the bedding, feeling the smooth fabric and the neatly arranged sheets beneath his fingertips.

This definitely doesn't feel like a triage cot in some city shelter...

The thought came naturally enough. The last place he remembered being was Priestella, a city that had been besieged by the Witch Cult and left to suffer through destruction on a terrible scale. If he had been rescued, then waking up in some makeshift medical ward would have made sense. A proper bed, however, was an unexpected luxury.

The Witch Cult...

The memories returned in a rush, and a frown of discomfort crept across his drowsy face. Little by little, the major details began filtering back into his mind: the fighting, the devastation, the exhaustion that had finally overwhelmed him. With those memories came the unpleasant realization that his body had not emerged from the ordeal unscathed.

YN: Ngh...

Aches radiated through nearly every muscle, particularly those in his arms and abdomen, with an intensity he could scarcely have imagined possible. The bed was wonderfully comfortable, and the air he breathed was clean and refreshing, yet he felt as though whatever vitality he had once possessed had been wrung out of him. He was still inhabiting his own body, of course, but it felt so utterly depleted that he might as well have been an animated skeleton, held together by little more than habit and stubbornness.

His immediate needs soon arranged themselves into a rather unceremonious hierarchy. Water, because his mouth felt drier than the desert. Food, because his body seemed determined to remind him of just how long it had gone without a proper meal. But most urgently of all—

—Bathroom.

He felt as though he might rupture if he had to wait much longer.

As comfortable as the bed was, it would become a coffin if he allowed himself to remain there indefinitely. With considerable reluctance, YN finally forced his eyes open, wincing as the sunlight pierced his drowsy vision. He raised one hand to shield them, blinking beneath his palm while he tried to make sense of the room around him and determine what had happened after he lost consciousness.

Above him was a wooden structure. Rafters crossed beneath what appeared to be a roof, their familiar, practical construction offering little in the way of clues.

YN: I don't recognize this ceiling.

His voice came out as little more than a croak. He paused afterward, half expecting someone to hear him and come over to greet him, —or at the very least, acknowledge that he was awake. Perhaps someone would explain where he was, how he had gotten there, and what had happened while he was unconscious. Any one of those answers would have been welcome.

YN: — — —

Yet, no such answer was provided to him.

It's up to me, then.