Sagiri woke slowly to the warmth of midday sunlight spilling across the room. For several seconds, he simply lay there staring at the ceiling, unusually disoriented. The light alone told him something was wrong. He never slept this late. His body had long ago learned to wake before dawn regardless of how little rest he got. Yet judging by the position of the sun pouring through the windows, half the day was already gone.
He frowned and pushed himself upright. The movement felt strange. He felt rested and refreshed. Sagiri sat on the edge of the bed and tried to remember when exactly he had fallen asleep. The memory refused to come. He remembered coming into his room. Remembered Lira entering the room. Remembered telling her to leave. After that, everything became vague fragments.
