Chapter 2: The Name I Shouldn’t Have
The sheets were too soft.
That was the first thing Noel noticed.
They weren't scratchy hospital linens. They felt like silk—cool, smooth, luxurious. And the air... it didn't stink of antiseptic. No chemical tang, no sterilized emptiness. It smelled like... dried herbs, dusted books, and something warm humming beneath it all.
Mana.
He didn't know how he knew the word.
He just did.
His eyes blinked open. Slowly.
The ceiling above him wasn't stained tile. It was smooth stone, a polished grayish-white with golden trim running in straight, intricate lines. A blue light floated in a corner—floated, suspended in the air, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
'...Okay. This ain't the ICU.'
He sat up too fast.
There was no IV. No tubes. No pain.