The next morning, Dyan only felt that his entire body was heavy and aching, as if he had been run over by a truck. His head was burning, his thoughts hazy. He snapped his eyes open, but all that greeted him were blurry, indistinct images.
Dyan's breathing grew somewhat unsteady. Only then did he realize that even his breath felt hot.
A hand was placed on his forehead, so cold that Dyan couldn't help shivering slightly. Then, instinctively, he began to crave that coolness.
Louis looked at the hand of his that Dyan was gripping tightly. His expression did not change as he turned to look at the others, though there was a hint of worry in his voice. "He has a fever, and it's very high."
The others immediately became flustered and anxious after hearing that. However, they were not worried about Dyan himself.
"Why did he suddenly get a fever? Who's going out to look for food now?"
"Does anyone have medicine? They went out to find food but couldn't find any medicine?"
