A deathly chill seeped into his skin, slowing his blood. It felt as if he could just let go, just release his grip, and gradually melt into the empty, dark cosmos.
Chaisi opened his eyes.
As usual, when he woke up, he had no idea what time it was.
His usually precise sense of time was suffocated by the silence, the cold, and the pitch-black darkness. Every time he fell asleep, it was like dying.
The process of waking was like an instinct that refused to die, urging him to crawl his way up, bit by bit, from the empty abyss. When he opened his eyes again, there was still not a single sliver of light to serve as a dividing line between the mortal world and the Black Abyss.
The thin sheet and blanket slid off his bare skin with a RUSTLE.
The room's temperature was always kept at 55 degrees Fahrenheit, regardless of season. Roller shades imported from Europe, paired with thick blackout curtains, blocked nearly one hundred percent of the light and kept out most of the outdoor heat.
