"Ah!"
A sharp scream shattered the morning silence. Palmer, as if waking from a nightmare, was surrounded by the lingering scent of last night's alcohol, clutching the blanket to his chest and curling up in the corner of the bed.
The yet-to-be-metabolized alcohol filled his veins, and the hangover-induced headache blurred Palmer's vision. He could hear his heart pounding violently, breathing heavily as if he lacked oxygen.
Palmer was grateful he was a Prayer Believer. As someone on the Path of Transcendence with an affinity for Ether, he was more robust than the average person, significantly reducing the chances of dying from fright.
"You... you..."
Palmer swallowed, pointing at the figure standing in the doorway. The inexplicable scene was too overwhelming, leaving him speechless for a moment.
"Me? What about me?"
Bologue pointed at himself, glancing at the time, then at the shocked Palmer. He said, "Get dressed, Geoffrey is calling us. He doesn't want us to be late."
