When he woke up the next morning, the light filtering through the curtains was soft. He sat up slowly, stretched, and dragged himself toward the mirror inside the bathroom.
He stared at his reflection, blinking once.
Then again.
"I actually feel… good," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. So, sleeping helps him recover his strength too.
The headache had disappeared, and he felt as if he'd just woken up from a two-day rest.
His mind felt clear, like fog had lifted. There was no lingering fatigue, no weight in his chest, no ache behind his eyes.
"I feel like I've leveled up or something," he mumbled. Was that even possible?
He turned his hand palm-up, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Energy moved underneath his skin. Not much—but steady. Stable. And strong.
"Being strong definitely has perks." He flexed his fingers again. "But it's not free. Burn too much, and you pay the price."
