Several more days passed.
And at long last, I was discharged from the hospital.
Honestly, I thought I might die of boredom before anything else got me.
Sure, it was a high-end hospital—the food was surprisingly good, almost indulgent—but no amount of decent meals could make up for that atmosphere. The constant quiet. The sterile smell. The way time seemed to crawl when all I could do was lie there and stare at the ceiling.
It felt suffocating.
My body still wasn't in great shape. Every time I moved, there was a dull ache, a reminder of just how badly I'd been wrecked. Even with healing magic, shattered bones don't magically erase the memory of pain.
Still, the moment the doctor said I could leave, I didn't hesitate for even a second.
Anything was better than being stuck in that bed.
"It's been a while," I muttered.
