Nadia felt like she'd fallen into an ice cave.
The cold was bone-chilling.
Even the slightest attempt to move sent a piercing pain, like being stabbed with needles, through her body.
So she shrank back.
She curled into a ball, hoping it would lessen the pain.
But it was useless.
Tossing and turning, she could never find a comfortable position, which only made the pain worse. Finally, in her despair, she snapped. 'If I can't go on living, then I'll take you all with me!'
But she was the only one who ended up dead.
She thought she saw herself in a dream—her own corpse. Eyes bulging, lips black and purple, tongue hanging far out of her mouth. The sight was so frightening she screamed and jolted awake.
"Ngh..." After uttering a single syllable, Nadia's forehead was already beaded with sweat from the pain.
Someone helped her wipe away the sweat and said softly, "Your throat is injured. Don't try to talk yet."
