The House of the Hearth, an orphanaged directed by Arlecchino, the fourth of the eleven fatui harbingers. In the House of the hearth, everyone is family but as family, to pull your own weight to survive was important. You were all raised to be strong adults capable of fending for themselves after being dealt a crappy hand in life.

Now how were you supposed to pull your own weight if you got sick so often? Your body was aching and pounding, eyelids heavy, about to fall shut and you couldn’t breathe properly, taking everything within you to not just fall asleep. You couldn’t explain it except for it feeling like you have a mountain’s weight on your whole body. Being as sick and frail as you are, this is a regular occurence yet you could never get used to the pain of being sick.

’Suck it up. You’re not even that sick, you should be used to this by now.’

You told yourself that exact phrase time and time again. Unexpectedly, ‘Father’ approached you before raising her hand, gently placing it on your forehead. Warm, around 37.8 degree celscius. This action startled you a little. You were currently doing a little research on mathematical advancements in the halls, as you were academically gifted just like your elder brother, Freminet. You could barely keep your eyes open. Arlecchino stared at you after feeling your forehead.

“You are clearly sick, you look like your about to keel over. Go back to your room and rest. This is an order. You’re forbidden from doing other activities that aren’t resting and taking care of yourself.” She ordered simply, crossing her arms with her expressionless face, expecting you to simply heed her orders.