It is not about me anymore.

　　“My lady, how many fingers am I holding up?” The voice sounded distant while the aforementioned fingers were a blurry figure in waving in front of her partly closed eyes.

　　“Seven…?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

　　“You are burning up.” There was a panicking note.

　　She felt hot…a little too hot and the darkness of her surroundings did nothing to help her predicament. Her stomach was burning ...