It was exactly eight minutes past two in the morning. It was still dark, and the moon was still up. Your surroundings are awfully silent except for the occasional cat hiss or a dog's howl. Your room temperature was somewhere around fifteen degrees celsius, yet you're wondering why were you perspiring so heavily. You toss and turn, kicking off your blankets so hard that they fell on your hardwood floor. Finally, you decided that you can't stand the heat anymore, so you got up, not bothering to turn on the light, because it was just a waste of energy, and the moon was bright enough anyway, and went to your closet to change into something lighter. On your way back to your bed, you suddenly felt your stomach churn, and you immediately ran to your bathroom, with your hand covering your mouth.

What the hell, you thought.

You entered the bathroom and immediately felt for the light switch while trying to hold in that night's dinner a little bit longer. The sudden brightness blinded you for a moment, and all you saw was pure whiteness. You blinked away and saw the pale purple glass tiles of your bath. You saw your average sized tub gleaming at a corner, a glass-enclosed shower with multiple shower-heads and your rustic-themed vanity with a copper sink and a frameless mirror in which you saw a glimpse of yourself as your vision returned. Then your stomach decided that it can't hold on any longer, so you doubled over the toilet bowl, spewing your dinner-and possibly lunch-out.

It hurts, you thought to yourself.

When you're sure that all of that day's meals were already wasted, and your stomach was done being dysfunctional, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and flushed the toilet, proceeding to the vanity to wash up.

"I look terrible," you said out loud, surprised at your hoarse voice and at the image when you saw yourself in the mirror.

You studied yourself a bit more. Your skin was really pale, and so was your lips. The circles underneath your eyes were darker, and your eyes were droopy. You kept on sniffling too. Your hair was a a mess too, though most of it were still in a bun on top of your head. You were continuing on washing yourself up when you suddenly felt your stomach turn into knots again.

Oh no, not again!

This time, you were sure that you're sick, and you needed help.

I'll call Eunhye as soon as this spewing session is done.

You stumbled out the bathroom door, feeling for another light switch that turns on the lights in your room. In doing so, your foot caught on something hard (probably your bed) and you muttered a curse in annoyance. Finally, you found the light switch and flicked it on. Your room, designed by you yourself, had a sense of grandeur, although not too lavish. It was simple, with cream walls and a hardwood flooring. Everything was either white or pale orange. One side opened up to a balcony overlooking the city. On wall to your right, adjacent to the balcony was a vintage mahogany reading table filled with stacks of books, and above the table was a shelf with more books. A comfortable-looking chair was drawn from the said table. A few spaces on the right of the table was a double bed made of wood, with a white leather headboard. Above the headboard was a blown-up photograph of you and your family facing a sunset back in Jeju Island. On the right side of your bed facing balcony was a vanity table complete with a fold-in mirror, vintage style. The door beside it on the adjacent wall led to your bathroom, while the