INT - DOCTOR RIKO'S ROOM
The doctor's room was always dim. Shelves lined one wall, filled with glass figurines that caught what little light escaped from the lamp on his desk.
Scattered beside the lamp were an assortment of fidget toys, a few papers, and his phone.
The phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface, the vibration echoing in the quiet room.
Riko's brow twitched. Sharp sounds always woke him, and he hated that.
He reached blindly for the phone, his voice rough with sleep.
"...Yes?" He didn't check, he knows who is it.
His eyes were still closed.
"Hel—Hello? Doctor Riko?" a girl's voice stammered on the other end — uncertain, distressed.
The voice on the other end sounded unsure, almost distressed.
Riko blinked the sleep from his eyes and pulled the phone away to check the display.
Four seconds in — the caller's name flashed across the screen: Erion.
"Hello… is this Doctor Riko?"
But it was clearly not him.
He pressed the phone back to his ear, now fully awake.
"Miss Evah?" he asked gently. "Is everything alright?"
"Doctor—please, help me!" Her voice trembled with panic.
Riko pulled off the blanket and stood to clear his thoughts.
"Miss Evah, take a deep breath for me first," he said calmly, flicking on the light.
He waited, listening to her unsteady breathing slow on the other end.
Then, softly—
"It's Erion."
She let out a sharp exhale, panic trembling in her voice. On the other end, Riko could hear faint, frantic murmurs — her words tumbling over each other.
He didn't waste another second. The doctor grabbed his coat from the cabinet, nodding as he listened closely to the distressed voice coming through the line. Every word sharpened his focus.
He moved quickly to another cabinet, pulling out a small white suitcase. "I'll be on my way, Miss Evah," he said firmly. "Calm down — just don't leave him."
The door clicked open. Riko was halfway out when he suddenly froze, eyes darting back to the table.
"…Right."
He rushed back, snatched his fidget toy, and tucked it into his pocket before disappearing into the dark night.
INT — ERION'S ROOM
The stethoscope's soft click echoed as Riko lifted it from his ears.
Evah stood behind him, still trembling slightly, her gaze locked on Erion's still form lying on the bed.
Under the warm orange glow of the lamp, he looked peaceful — too peaceful.
No injuries, no visible wounds. Nothing out of place.
But Evah's lessons from earlier that day whispered in her mind: Never overlook things.
She clutched her trembling hands together. Her heartbeat refused to settle.
"Is he okay, Doctor?" she finally asked.
Riko placed his tools back into the small suitcase and offered her a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, he's fine."
"Are you sure?"
She stepped closer, her voice tight, demanding an answer.
The doctor gave her a faint smile — the kind meant to reassure, even if he wasn't completely sure himself. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing against the familiar shape of his fidget toy.
"I've checked all his vitals," he said softly. "No abnormalities. No new physical wounds, either."
A quiet click echoed from his pocket — barely audible, but it grounded him
Evah's eyes didn't leave Erion. "Why did he collapse? Did something happen?"
The doctor hesitated, glancing at the man before meeting her gaze.
"It's… a normal thing for Erion."
The soft hum of the open window drifted through the room. For a brief moment, only the wind spoke — while Evah stood there, trying to make sense of the doctor's words.
Her brows knitted. "Normal? What do you mean by that?"
"You know about his nightmare disorder, yes?" Riko began walking toward the living room, motioning for her to follow.
She trailed behind him silently, still trying to understand.
"Erion's body tends to shut down when he's exhausted," the doctor continued, slipping his other hand into his coat pocket. "If he faints from fatigue, he loses the strength to react when the nightmares strike."
Evah's eyes widened. "Do you mean the breaking, the screaming—?"
"Everything," Riko interjected quietly, stopping her from continuing.
"That's not healthy!" she protested, voice rising slightly. "He does this every day?"
Even saying that outloud Evah can't comprehend it.
Riko stopped by the door, his back to her. "He does this until he collapses."
The silence that followed was heavy — pity and pain hanging in the air between them.
Neither dared to say what they were thinking.
"But isn't that dangerous?" Evah whispered. "What if he faints somewhere else?"
Her voice cracked, guilt bleeding into her words. "He said people are always after him… how can he. . "
She stopped. The memory of his broken voice echoed in her head—
"You can't fix me."
It hadn't been a mockery. She knew that. It was something he truly believed.
The guilt twisted deeper. Heavy, suffocating.
Her chest felt tight, the memory of his screams that night started replaying like a cruel melody.
A hand touched her shoulder, gentle and grounding.
"Miss Evah," Riko said softly. His gaze was sincere. "Just… try to be there for him. He hates being pitied, so make it seem like it's nothing."
His smile wavered — Evah could see it. The sadness behind his calm.
This isn't fair, she thought bitterly.
Her eyes shifted to the half-open door of Erion's room. The darkness inside was heavy, swallowing even his shadow. But she could feel him there.
Still broken.
"I'll be on my way," Riko said, adjusting his coat.
Evah nodded faintly, her voice caught in her throat.
"You'll be fine," he assured. "He won't move until he wakes up."
The door clicked shut behind him.
The room fell silent again.
I'm not scared.
She wanted to shout it—to prove it. But was it that obvious?
As the quiet pressed in around her, even she wasn't sure anymore.