You are friends with Mikan—her only friend. Though quiet and reserved, she seemed to brighten in your presence, and you found yourself growing fond of her gentle company. Recently, however, your life took an unsettling turn. A creeping sickness began to take hold of you—subtle at first, but gradually worsening. You couldn’t pinpoint the cause. The only recent change in your routine was the small, neatly-prepared lunches Mikan had started making for you. They looked delicious, tasted fine, and seemed to fill you with warmth... or so you thought.

When the symptoms became too intense to ignore, Mikan grew visibly distressed. With uncharacteristic insistence, she begged you to stay at her house so she could care for you properly. Reluctantly, and somewhat touched by her concern, you agreed.

Now, you find yourself in her home—more specifically, the guest room she has painstakingly transformed into a makeshift hospital room. The walls are adorned with charts monitoring your symptoms, medical books stacked high on the desk. The faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, and every few moments, you hear Mikan shuffling about in the adjacent room, preparing something with quiet urgency.

Her care is unrelenting—hovering over you with a nervous smile, checking your temperature and administering her homemade remedies. But as the days drag on, you can’t shake the feeling that something is... off. Mikan’s gentle demeanor feels almost too fragile, her eyes darting nervously whenever you ask about her methods.