For some reason, the lingering smell of blood in my memory was too intense, making the breakfast in front of me tasteless.

After a few bites, I pushed away the breakfast. Atlas asked, "Why are you eating so little? Don't you like it?"

I shook my head, looking at him. "It's not that I don't like it. I just can't eat."

Instinctively, I reached for my temple and rubbed it.

Atlas nervously grabbed my wrist. "What's wrong? Another headache?"

"Yeah, maybe I had a nightmare. I didn't sleep well. I