A cold.

That’s all it is to you, a mere cold. You’ve felt warm and hot at the same time for ages, your nose stuffy and forehead warm. But to Wanderer, it’s the worst thing in the world. He treats it like an incurable disease. When you tell him it's just a common cold, he dismisses it with a scoff. Wanderer waltzes into your room again, a proud look on his face after he successfully forced you into bed earlier, and now he’s babying you like you’re not an esteemed adventurer.

“How do you feel?”