Late at night, inside Kempinski Hotel in Munich, it was so quiet that only the occasional breeze could be heard outside the windows.
Bonazzoli lay on the soft large bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Sometimes he lay flat on his back with limbs outstretched, sometimes curled up on his side, sometimes burying his face into the pillow, even covering his entire head with the quilt, but no matter how he changed his posture, sleep eluded him.
Excitement and nervousness intertwined within him, and in the quiet room, he could hear his own heart pounding.
"Can't sleep, really can't sleep, what should I do?"
Bonazzoli mumbled to himself in the dark, then fumbled with his hand to turn on his phone.
The glaring screen displayed the time clearly—2:30 AM.
Helpless, he sat up, propping a thick soft pillow securely behind his back, and then slightly turned the bed lamp's knob.
With a click, the bed lamp emitted a faint yellow glow, spreading a soft halo of light in the double room.
