At dawn, Roy woke in a warm haze.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a familiar expanse of white.
White walls, white curtains, white sheets, white pillowcases, and a white blanket. Roy was no stranger to this familiar hospital scene. He was a doctor himself, and in his previous life, he had spent long periods in places like this after every mission.
Life in a hospital was as monotonous and dull as the colors of this ward. Yet being alive to enjoy a boring life was already an immense blessing. Every time he returned from the battlefield, Roy found that even a row of wards large enough to hold an entire unit was never filled with patients.
With some effort, Roy sat up and stretched his stiff shoulders. The injuries he had suffered in America had been sustained by adrenaline before, leaving him with no real discomfort. Now that he had relaxed, every part of his body began aching.
"By the way, what exactly happened yesterday? I was knocked out before I could even react."
Under normal circumstances, Roy would not have been taken down so easily. The main problem was that he had already exhausted himself to the point where he could not even resist Madam Pomfrey's restraint.
Shifting his stiff body to the edge of the bed, Roy discovered that his filthy combat uniform had somehow been replaced with clean hospital clothes. The large red backpack on his back, which had long been grimy and stiff with dirt, had also been thoroughly washed, folded neatly, and placed quietly beside his bed.
Roy jumped out of bed and rummaged through his backpack, only to find that everything inside had been taken out. He opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet, and sure enough, all