Otsutsuki's Curse

When Boruto opened his eyes, he found himself staring at unfamiliar luxury.

This wasn't a medical room filled with the smell of disinfectant, nor was it his own shabby dormitory. The room was so vast it felt empty. An elaborate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and several baffling abstract paintings adorned the walls, their colors twisted as if they were silently screaming. The carpet beneath his feet was astonishingly thick; with every step, he sank in up to half his foot, as though it meant to swallow him into a soft abyss.

He braced himself against the bed and sat up. His whole body ached as if he'd been run over by a truck, every bone protesting.

The door opened without a sound.

A middle-aged man in a crisp black suit entered, his expression stiff, carrying a silver tray. A steaming bowl of ramen sat on it, and the rich scent of pork bone broth instantly filled the room.

"Awake?" The man gently set the tray on the bedside table, his movements so precise they seemed almost procedural. "Lord Yamada expected you'd be hungry and specifically ordered this to be brought to you."

Boruto stared at the bowl of ramen. His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl.

He hadn't eaten in two days. During those three days in the forest, he'd held on with nothing but willpower and the Chakra he had left.

"Eat." The man turned to leave, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. "By the way, the list of those who passed has been announced. You ranked seventh. As for that girl... she also made it out of the forest safely. She's resting in a dedicated medical room now and isn't seriously hurt."

Boruto froze, his chopsticks suspended in midair.

"She... really is all