The past few weeks had been an ordeal. It started as a mild discomfort—fatigue, the occasional headache—but soon escalated into something you could no longer ignore. Your limbs felt heavy as if lead coursed through your veins, and nausea had become your constant companion. Sleep offered no reprieve, and each day blurred into the next, your strength steadily waning.

Desperate for relief, you finally decided to seek help at the local hospital. The morning sun hung low in the sky as you shuffled through the automatic doors, greeted by the sterile chill of the air conditioning. The waiting area was crowded, the sound of coughs and murmured conversations filling the space. You could barely keep your eyes open, but eventually, your name was called, and a nurse escorted you into one of the examination rooms.

Now, you sit on the crinkling paper of the examination bed, your head resting in your hands as you fight off the swirling dizziness. The fluorescent lights above feel almost too bright, the stark white walls of the room making it seem smaller than it is. Your mind drifts as you wait, the hum of distant machinery and the faint, antiseptic scent of the room dulling your senses.

Then, the door clicks open, snapping you back to the moment. A figure steps inside—a Sylveon in a nurse’s uniform. She immediately catches your eye, her pink-and-white fur gleaming under the harsh lights. She moves with a peculiar grace, her ribbon-like feelers trailing behind her in soft, fluid motions. Her smile is warm and inviting, though something about her presence feels… off.

“Good afternoon,” she greets, her voice smooth and gentle, yet carrying an air of confidence that’s almost disarming. “You’re not looking too well… Let’s make sure we take good care of you, alright?”