After closing the window, I finally decided to return to bed and give my body some rest.
But the moment I turned, a faint sound pierced the silence… a growl.
I froze in place, then placed my hand on my stomach and let out a slow sigh.
It seemed my stomach wasn't satisfied with the idea of resting before eating.
I muttered quietly:
"Looks like I need to fill my stomach first."
I got up from the bed, feeling a slight sting in my body with every movement, then headed toward the door.
Before reaching it, something caught my eye—a faint reflection in the corner of the room.
A mirror… placed beside one of the cabinets.
I hesitated for a moment, then told myself a quick glance wouldn't hurt.
I stepped toward it slowly, and the moment I stood before it, I was hit with real shock.
My face… was completely covered in bandages.
It was as if I wasn't looking at myself, but at a mummy fresh out of an ancient tomb.
My eyes widened involuntarily as I stared at my reflection in disbelief.
My poor face… it must have been badly disfigured for them to cover it like this!
Dark thoughts began to flood my mind.
What if scars remain?
What if my face never returns to normal?
I'm in my twenties, but like this… I look like I'm in my thirties… I don't even know why!
And with all the beating I took… maybe I'll end up looking like I'm in my forties!
I let out a long breath, then shook my head firmly, as if forcing those thoughts away.
"No, no… what nonsense."
Just a few days, and my face will heal.
Everything will go back to normal… right?
…
After that brief confrontation with the mirror, I turned and opened the door.
And then… I was surprised.
Before me stretched a luxurious corridor—long and quiet. Its walls glowed with a warm tone, and elegant lamps adorned the ceiling, casting a soft light that didn't hurt the eyes.
The floor was carefully polished, reflecting the light faintly, and doors lined both sides of the hallway, identical as if they were copies of one another.
At the end of the corridor…
Stairs.
One leading up, the other down.
I paused for a moment, staring at the place in confusion.
I had never seen this hallway before… even though I had passed through this hotel earlier with the others when we headed to the basement.
I walked forward slowly, accompanied by silence.
No voices.
No footsteps.
No whispers.
No one in the hallway.
"Since this is a hotel… it's normal for everyone to be in their rooms," I thought to myself, but another question lingered: What exactly is this place?
I reached the end of the corridor and stood before the stairs.
Should I go up… or down?
I thought for a moment.
If this really is a hotel, then my room is probably on the third or fourth floor.
And the kitchen… most likely on the second.
After a brief hesitation, I decided to go down.
As I descended, a large window on the wall caught my eye.
I stopped unconsciously.
The sunset… was breathtaking.
The sun was slowly bidding farewell to the sky, painting the horizon in soft shades of orange and red—so far removed from the chaos and darkness of the basement.
For a moment… I felt like I was in another world.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then a longer exhale, as if gathering what little calm I had left.
Then I continued downward.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs… I realized my guess had been right.
I was at the reception area.
My eyes immediately fell on the spot of the hidden door, and memories flooded my mind: what happened in the basement, the sounds, the chaos, the pain…
But my thoughts were cut short.
"Sir! What are you doing here?!"
I flinched slightly and turned toward the voice.
It was the same receptionist who had welcomed us when we first arrived.
I found it odd that she called me "sir," but I answered calmly:
"I felt hungry, so I came to ask where the kitchen is."
She smiled professionally and said:
"Oh, the kitchen is on the fourth floor. But there's no need for you to go yourself—I can bring the food to you."
I shook my head politely:
"Thank you, but I'd prefer to go myself."
She nodded without objection.
I turned and climbed the stairs again, muttering in annoyance:
"I should've gone up from the start instead of overthinking…"
After a climb that wasn't exactly short, I finally reached the fourth floor.
…
The fourth floor was very similar to the third, as if the hotel insisted on repeating its elegance in every corner.
A long corridor, walls decorated with refined patterns, and a polished floor reflecting the warm light of the ceiling lamps.
Doors lined both sides neatly, everything radiating calm and order… a calm so different from the chaos we had left behind in the basement.
At the end of the corridor stood a wider door than the rest, and from behind it came warm, unmistakable aromas.
I didn't need to think twice.
This had to be the kitchen.
I walked up to it and opened the door.
The first thing I saw was Visper and Zairos sitting around a medium-sized wooden table, eating in relative silence.
Behind them, two chefs stood at a large stove, moving in clear harmony—chopping, stirring, and preparing food with the skill of long experience.
I greeted the chefs with a slight nod.
One returned it silently, while the other continued working without even looking up.
At that moment, Visper noticed me and turned with a small smile:
"Oh, you're here. You must be hungry—come join us."
I walked over and sat with them, then my eyes fell on Zairos.
He was sipping his soup slowly… and his face, just like mine, was covered in bandages.
I couldn't help but laugh:
"Hahaha, looks like the three of us are just a bundle of bandages."
Zairos looked up at me, then smirked:
"At least I'm in better shape than you two. You both look like you came out of a grave… real mummies."
Visper shot back immediately:
"Look who's talking."
Zairos growled slightly:
"Hey, I'm older than you! You should respect me."
Visper smiled coolly:
"Then act like someone worth respecting."
Zairos's eyes widened in anger:
"What did you say?!"
Before it could turn into a real argument, I raised my hand and laughed:
"Guys, it's not worth it."
But before any of us could say more…
Something was placed on the table.
Something I hadn't seen since I arrived in this world.
Something I barely recognized from how long it had been absent from my stomach…
and my mouth.
Meat.
A carefully grilled piece of meat, dark brown on the outside, with faint steam rising from it.
Its rich, warm aroma instantly stirred hunger.
Beside it was a bowl of clear, hearty soup, and soft white bread that looked freshly baked.
I looked at Visper and Zairos.
Visper was staring at the dish with wide eyes, drooling without realizing it.
Zairos's eyes gleamed as if he were about to pounce on the meat at any moment.
The three of us were stunned.
This… wasn't just food.
It was a dream we had longed for.
I swallowed and said nervously, sweat forming on my forehead as I reached for the plate:
"Since I haven't eaten anything since I woke up… I think I'm the one who should—"
But Zairos cut me off, pulling the plate toward him:
"What are you saying?! I should eat it! I almost died in the basement fighting!"
I lunged and pulled the plate back, laughing:
"Hahaha! Don't you see my bandaged face?! That alone proves I'm the one who almost died!"
Zairos tugged harder, scoffing:
"What are you talking about? You look like you could run ten meters just fine."
I pulled harder:
"And you look like you could—"
But Visper interrupted us, his eyes full of hunger as he reached for the plate:
"Haha, you both look perfectly healthy."
Then he added in a pleading tone:
"As for me… can't you see my frail body? I need protein to recover. Won't you give this dish to your younger brother?"
I laughed:
"Haha, Visper… that's going to be difficult."
Zairos said while pulling the plate toward himself:
"I… can't take it anymore… this dish is mine!"
At that same moment, I pulled it toward me—while Visper did the same.
Three hands… fighting over one plate.
And suddenly—
A fourth hand appeared.
It snatched the plate effortlessly.
We all looked up at once.
The chef stood there calmly.
He took the plate, grabbed a knife, and cut the meat with precise, professional movements—without saying a word.
Three equal pieces… in complete silence.
Then he placed the plate back on the table and said in a calm, unquestionable tone:
"Eat… without noise."
After that, he walked away, sat on a nearby chair, opened a newspaper, and began reading—as if nothing had happened.
I looked at the neatly divided pieces of meat in front of us.
Zairos spoke after a moment of silence:
"Well… I guess this is the best solution."
Visper smiled:
"Yeah… I think so too."
I nodded in agreement.
And finally…
It was time to eat something I had dreamed of for a very long time.