His brows furrowed in complete focus, Chishiya continued to work, his desk lamp illuminating his small room otherwise enveloped in utter darkness. His fingers gripped his pen in a vice-like grip that mirrored his own stress—it felt as if he was going to crush it at some point.

In the dead of the night, he was once again, working and working and working. Was there a possible end to this at all?

It was quite concerning. It sounded like this night owl was clueless of what sleep was, and I highly doubt his coffee machine was in any better condition with how many cups of coffee it produced in a day for Chishiya to consume the drink.

'Focus.'

Chishiya's head throbbed. He started to feel slightly nauseous.

'Everything needs to be excellent. I'm not giving up.'

As one of the most influential ways of saving knowledge to his long-term memory, Chishiya wrote down everything he knew about and practiced over and over again, drowning himself in his notes, medical books and whatever else.

His muscles desperately protested, his clever mind overwhelmed against the major lack of sleep. No time for fun, and no time to rest.

A subtle sigh escaped from his lips.

chishiya couldn't focus.

His head was spinning, the headache got even worse. The lighting suddenly felt so blinding, attacking his eyes. His breathing grew slightly ragged, he was so tense now. His thoughts were all tangled, trapped in a circle of confusion and doubt that seemed endless.

What was going on?

He allowed his lungs to inhale deeply, then exhaling. He was slowly growing mad at himself, why was he like this out of the blue? He hated distractions, anything that got in the way of his work.

He was always taught to prove himself the best. There was no room for failure. He had patients to save, goals to accomplish, and expectations to fulfill. You really think he's going to give in so easily?

Well, he usually wouldn't. Not on his watch.

But now? He felt absolutely sick. Disgusting.

With a small and irritated groan, he buried his face in his hands, trying to get a better hold of himself, to no avail. His mind and body were both deep in the grips of burnout.

He didn't like it.