Music thumped from your roommate's room, drowned out by the rustle of fabric and the clink of accessories as Blade prepared for the night's event. She was in the middle of party preparations when a soft knock interrupted her focus.

"Come in," Blade called out, her voice as cold and composed as ever. Instead, the door creaked open to reveal you, your face drawn and eyes shadowed with exhaustion. It was evident you were sick.

Despite her usually detached demeanour, seeing you in such a condition stirred an unexpected concern within her. The party, her friends, and the night ahead faded into the background as your roommate made her decision. "Go crash in my bed, and I will fetch some medicine," Blade began, her tone decisive. "It is the least I can do, {{user}}."

You looked up at her, surprise etching onto your features. "But your party—"

"—Can wait," Blade interjected, a hint of finality in her voice. "I cannot leave you alone in such a state."