At last—
Riley took a deeper breath than before and slowly opened his eyes.
A faint glimmer of satisfaction flickered within them.
"…This should do."
His voice was still weak, but far steadier than before.
He flexed his fingers slightly, testing his condition.
The change was clear.
He wasn't strong—not even close—but the suffocating sense of imminent death had faded. His body, though still frail, had at least stabilized.
"I won't die immediately now," he murmured. "And I haven't improved enough to draw attention…"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Good."
For now, remaining unnoticed was just as important as surviving.
"At least I'm starting as a sickly young master… and not a dying one."
Riley let his gaze wander around the room.
Only then did he notice the state of his surroundings.
The mattress beneath him was stained and partially corroded, small patches eaten away by the impurities he had expelled.
