The morning air was crisp, the faint scent of polished wood and fresh linen lingering in Damien's quarters. He stood before the mirror, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and assessing.
119.3 kg.
A week ago, the very thought of standing here, waiting to be dressed, would have been unbearable. Back then, the reflection in the mirror had been a bloated, sluggish excuse of a body, one that disgusted him to his core.
But now?
Now, there was progress.
Still, it wasn't enough. His skin, loose from the rapid weight loss, clung uncomfortably in places, a reminder of what he had been. A nuisance. It had to be dealt with.
The soft knock at the door came precisely on time.
"Enter."
Elysia stepped in, her movements composed, precise. As always, she was dressed immaculately, her uniform crisp, her demeanor cool. She approached without hesitation, the new uniform neatly folded over her arm.
"Young master," she greeted, inclining her head slightly. "I will assist you in dressing."
