"Bang!"
Waylon closed the door to the bathroom from within. He hurried over to the toilet and violently puked.
Doris knocked on the door. She stomped her foot anxiously and asked, "Mr. Adelmar! Mr. Adelmar! Are
you okay?"
He sat on the toilet seat for some time after he finished throwing up. Eventually, when his stomach felt
better, he got up and cleaned the toilet.
After that, he weakly pushed the door open and went out.
His face was covered in sweat, and the hair on his forehead was damp. His face had turned slightly
green instead of being as pale.
To prevent his body from collapsing, he leaned against the bathroom door frame.
He stared at Doris with an unfathomable and helpless look.
His weary voice carried a homicidal undertone. He said, "Are you aware that I'm allergic to pork?"
Doris was stunned. She murmured, "Is it possible to be allergic to pork?"
The pork is delicious. How could something so delicious make someone allergic?
"I'm sure you're thinking about how delicious it is! But that's your opinion! It smells bad, is repulsive,
and looks ugly. Only you would think it's tasty."
She blinked innocently.
He could read my mind. He's fully capable of anything.
As sweat began to appear on her face, she argued, "I had no idea that you're allergic to pork. No one
told me about it!"
"You mean, after all this time we've spent together, you didn't know? You didn't know the sort of foods I
can't eat and dislike?
Waylon was speechless.
"What are they?"
"Forget it. I won't hold it against you."
Rolling his eyes, Waylon struggled to walk to the bed. He laid down on the bed and commanded "Go to
my study!"
Doris was confused and questioned, "What? Go to your study? Why should I go to your study?"
"Get the medicine for me! Do you want me to suffer?" he asked irritably while keeping his eyes closed.
Doris finally gets it. She hurriedly asked, "Oh, oh! I get it now. Where should I get the medicine from?"
"Go to the cabinet on the left, third row, fourth compartment from the top," Waylon instructed.
His eyes were barely open, and he held onto his forehead. He instructed, "After you get the medicine,
boil it and bring it to me. Chop chop!"
"Alright, alright! I'm going."
"Left cabinet, third row, fourth from the top," Doris recited as she hurried out of the room.
She quickly exited the bedroom and made her way to Waylon's study.
She came back thirty minutes later with herbal soup and some pills.
Waylon had vomited once more. He had practically cleaned out his entire stomach. He was completely
exhausted. His complexion had turned pallid.
Originally lying down, he was now curled up on his stomach.
"Are you going to be okay?" Doris asked while setting the bowl down.
"I won't die," Waylon replied as he pressed his face against the pillow.
"I'm glad to hear that. I'll lift you up so you can take your medication."
Waylon gave a feeble response.
He was completely worn out after having diarrhea and vomiting.
Doris grabbed his broad shoulders and helped him sit up.
Waylon found it difficult to sit up straight. Doris had to support him while allowing him to rest against her
shoulder.
She gave him a spoonful at a time while holding him in one hand and the bowl in the other.
He gulped the herbal soup down as Doris furrowed her brows.
The herbal medicine smelled awful. I couldn't drink it. The smell makes me want to throw up. Oh, my
goddess, Mr. Adelmar has suffered a lot.
Doris felt guilty.
Why did I have to cook for him? I've gotten him sick!
After finishing a large bowl of herbal soup, Waylon slid off Doris' shoulder and lay flat beneath the
covers.
Doris wiped his mouth, tucked the blanket away, and went to the bathroom to wet a towel to wipe the
sweat from his forehead.
"You need to find a place for yourself by tomorrow," Waylon mumbled while keeping his eyes closed.
"I'm done dealing with your problems."
Doris sniffled and muttered, "I know. I'm a troublemaker. A jinx. I'm worthless. All I did was make your
life difficult and give you diarrhea."
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