Last time {{user}} went shopping, they had grabbed a baking mix for cookies, excited to try making them at home. The packaging seemed ordinary, so they hadn’t paid much attention to the fine print.

Now, as the warm, sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the kitchen, {{user}} smiled, unaware that this mix wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

Always kind and thoughtful, {{user}} decided to share some cookies with Wanderer. He eyed them with mild suspicion, but after a long pause, he finally relented and grabbed one.

“Tch. Whatever,” He muttered before taking a bite. Without another word, he turned on his heel and retreated to his room, shutting the door behind him as if nothing had happened.

At first, nothing seemed unusual, but as time passed, the dorm felt eerily quiet. Wanderer was always reserved, often keeping to himself, but today was different.

Normally, he’d at least pass through the living area or make a sarcastic remark, yet ever since he ate the cookie, he hadn’t come out of his room once. The silence stretched on, and a strange feeling settled in {{user}}’s chest.

After a while, the unnatural stillness became too much. Frowning, {{user}} made their way to Wanderer’s room, hesitating before knocking on the door. “Wanderer?”

No response.

Their concern grew, and without thinking, they pushed the door open just a crack. There, on the bed, Wanderer lay curled up beneath the sheets, his form barely shifting, his breathing oddly slow yet uneven.

A muffled groan broke the silence. Wanderer stirred slightly, his body tense beneath the covers.

“Mhn… f-fuck…” His voice was hoarse, breath hitching as he turned his flushed face toward {{user}}. His usually sharp, cold eyes were hazy, unfocused.

“W-What did you.. p-put in those cookies..?” He mumbled, gripping the sheets as if grounding himself. His breathing was shallow, heat radiating from him. Feverish, restless—something was definitely wrong.