He came to to the sound of something hitting the door. With a frown and bleary glare for whoever dared to wake him when he had a headache, Cale rose his head from his pillow and coughed lightly due to the dust in the air.

"Yes?" he mumbled out and hoped they would go away soon.

"Young Master?" he didn't recognize the voice. "Young Master, breakfast is ready. You need to get up and eat."

"Mhm. Sure." his eyes slid closed as the fatigue he was wrapped in threatened to pull him down into slumber again. He wondered vaguely what kind of dream he was having for someone to call him a young master. Perhaps he had watched too many historical dramas? Who knew.

Not like it mattered.

The knocking resumed. "Young Master, are you listening? Master and Mistress are going to be disappointed if you skip it again. It's not good for your health. Young Master?"

His eyes snapped open as he realized what he was listening too. He stared at the white covers he was sleeping on. He was sure his own were blue. Dark blue for a matter of fact. Since when had he ever used white covers? His mother knew that he didn't like them because they were annoyingly bright in the morning. Kind of like now.

Cale pushed himself up until he was sitting on the bed. He palmed his eyes and tried to ignore the beginning of a headache behind them. As the knocking once again continued, he looked up, fully prepared to yell for them to leave. Instead, he found himself in shock.

This wasn't his room.

In fact, it wasn't even close.

His room was made up of dark colors and walls hidden by bookcases filled with manga and books. It had a TV and a computer and a lamp hanging from the ceiling. This wasn't anything like it. This room was made up of light colors, a large bed in the middle of it that he was currently sitting on, a light wooden desk wrenched into the corner with only a single bookcase and not a computer or TV to be seen.

In his panic, he forgot about his headache and stumbled out of the bed.

The floor was cold against his feet and he hissed as he stared down at it. But, strangely, only for a moment and then he was used to it. He was dressed in some kind of sleeping gown, which was also white, that went all the way down to his heels.

He took a step and listened to his footsteps. They were wrong. He wasn't sure how, but he knew they were. They didn't sound like they were supposed to like he was used to, but he wasn't sure what was different.

They just were.

His head flew from side to side as he tried to figure out where he was. In the middle of his quiet freak-out, the voice that woke him continued, "Young Master, are you up?"

"Ye-" he cleared his throat. "Yes. What day is it?" he asked, dreading the answer. If he'd lost time as well, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. Had he gotten drunk? But he'd never been much of drinker.

"It's Saturday, Young Master. Do you feel well enough to leave the house today?" the voice answered. It was, now that he was capable of thinking again, actually a rather pleasant voice if a little too high for his tastes. It gave the image of a young girl working in a café.

"What date is it?"

The handle of the door jiggled as the woman on the other side answered. "It's the thirteenth, Young Master."

Cale took a deep breath. It had been the thirteenth five days ago. "What month?"

"July, Young Master. Are you alright? Do you require any medicine? Should I summon your healer?"

July. July. That meant, he'd lost three months? How could he just lose three months of his life?! Things like that didn't happen! He wasn't at a hospital nor was he at home or anywhere else he recognized. He didn't know the owner of the voice that called him a young master and he didn't even recognize the clothes he was wearing. The last thing he knew, it had been April and he was at home with his parents. He had read until late at night when he went to sleep like any other day. There had been nothing out of the ordinary. He supposed that he could be suffering from some form of amnesia, but in that case, he should be at a hospital not in... in someplace that wouldn't look out of place in a historical novel!

He breathed in deeply. "Could... could I take my breakfast here? And medicine for my headache?"

"Certainly, Young Master. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

For now, he needed to find out where he was and how he'd ended up here. He needed to determine exactly how he lost three months of his life and what was going on. In his anxiety, he started to pace in the fairly large room.

Sometime later, he wasn't sure how long as there wasn't a clock in the room, knocking once again sounded from the door.

Cale hurried his way to the door and twisted the lock. He opened it up and stared out at the sight that met him. There was a maid, dressed in a long black dress, with a high collar and white frilly apron. She was carrying a tray that was covered by a plate and a cup of something that was steaming with heat. There was also a small translucent bottle of something that looked vaguely green.

He stretched out his arms, those as well covered by the sleepwear and took hold of the tray. "Thank you." he said and continued with, "The headache medicine?"

"It is the small bottle. It is the one you prefer the most, Young Master. Or would you like another one?"

He stared suspiciously at the bottle. "No. No, it's fine. Thank you."

The maid bowed and took her leave. Cale watched her go down the hallway briefly before he carried the tray inside and set it down on the desk. He then closed the door and locked it again. The last thing he wanted was someone walking in on him until he sorted out his thoughts.

Cale stared down at the breakfast. It looked ordinary. Bread with butter and jam and a cup of steaming hot chocolate just the way he liked it. He was unsure what he was supposed to do with the bottle of what was apparently headache reliever, but he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. Was this something he was supposed to know?

But the headache was moving on to the annoying level and he figured that as panicked and uncertain as he was, the last thing he could afford was being in pain because he was too stubborn to try it. If it was poison than there was probably an antidote somewhere around here and honestly, he couldn't really process the thought of dying right now. He'd take it and try his chances and hope for the best.

He sat down on the wooden chair by the desk and dragged the tray closer. He started with his breakfast.

It was gone within moments when he found that he was starving. He drank the cup of scalding hot chocolate and even the burn eased faster than he was used to. Once it was gone, he looked down forlorn at the plate. He was still a little hungry, but he gathered that he could wait. It wasn't urgent.

Cale took a deep breath before he drank the medicine in the bottle in one large gulp, determined not to taste it. With the way it looked, he didn't even want to know.

He put the bottle back down on the tray and waited. There was no immediate reaction so if it was poison it wasn't going to kill him instantly. He didn't feel any worse than he had a moment earlier, either. Suddenly, he found that he was tired. He blinked rapidly to try to get the heaviness out of his eyelids, but it didn't make a difference. He had the urge to sleep and to be honest, it didn't seem like a bad thing. Perhaps this was all a dream and when he woke up, he'd be back home? Maybe this was all a product of his imagination.

He hoped so.

Cale stood up shakily from the chair and dragged his feet to the bed. He turned away from the sunlight that was streaming in from one of the large open windows and fell down on the bed. It was comfortable, at least.

He breathed in the scent of lavender and chocolate that permeated the room and fell asleep quietly.

He really hoped it was all a dream.