Bab 75: Who Are You, John Doe?

The morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow over the small guesthouse room I was sharing with Avery. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of toast, and for a moment, the cozy atmosphere almost made me forget the chaos of the competition.

Avery, ever the early riser, was already at the small dining table with a plate of eggs, toast, and a fruit salad. Her long auburn hair was tied into a neat braid, and she looked far too put together for someone dealing with the same stress as the rest of us.

"Morning, sunshine," she greeted, raising her mug of coffee with a smirk. "Rough night?"

I groaned, grabbing a plate and piling it with food before dropping into the seat across from her. "You have no idea."