Chapter Text
When you open your eyes, the world around you is unfamiliar. A dull ache pulses in your head, and your body feels strangely heavy, as if you've just woken from a slumber that lasted far too long. Panic stirs in your chest as you grasp for fragments of memory, only to find nothing. Your mind is a vast, empty expanse.
Where are you? Who are you?
The only clues lie in the clothes on your back, garments that feel foreign, out of place, too different from the world you've awakened in. The streets are bustling, filled with people dressed in a style that doesn’t match your own. Their mannerisms are subtly off, distant yet familiar in ways that unnerve you. There is a deep, gnawing dissonance between you and your surroundings, an undeniable certainty that you do not belong. But why? And where did you come from?
A profound emptiness settles in your chest, an ache you can't explain. It isn’t just your memories that have been taken, something deeper has been stripped away, leaving behind a hollow wound in your soul. Perhaps, you think bitterly, forgetting is a form of mercy. A way to start over without the weight of a past too painful to recall and without the burden of the loss of what was once yours.
For two days, you wander in a haze, drifting among strangers who spare you only passing glances. At night, you curl up on a cold park bench, exhaustion eventually pulling you into a restless slumber. Hunger gnaws at your insides, an agony that jolts you awake on the third day. But before you can make sense of your growing weakness, darkness engulfs you.
When you awaken, the first thing you see is an unfamiliar ceiling, stark white and sterile. A hospital room. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, the quiet hum of medical equipment filling the space around you. You try to sit up, but even the smallest movement sends a dull ache rippling through your limbs.
"You're awake?"
A voice, gentle yet firm, draws your attention. Turning your head, you find a woman standing at your bedside. Her uniform resembles law enforcement attire, but there’s something different about it. The design is intricate, layered with subtle technological enhancements you can’t quite place. It’s unlike any police uniform you recall, if you could recall anything at all.
The officer studies you for a moment before speaking again, her tone softer this time. "Do you remember what happened? You collapsed in the park, and a kind passerby reported it to us."
The words hit you like a tidal wave, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashes down on you at once. Your chest tightens, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
"I… I don’t remember anything," you choke out, your voice breaking. Tears well up in your eyes, blurring the concerned face of the officer in front of you.
Her expression shifts in alarm. Quickly, she moves closer, her voice steady yet soothing. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. Breathe with me, alright? Inhale… exhale. Slowly now."
You obey, focusing on the rhythm of her words, forcing yourself to mimic her controlled breaths. It feels like an eternity before the tightness in your chest finally eases, your body no longer trembling. By then, she had already called for a doctor.
A group of medical personnel enters, their gazes clinical yet not unkind as they begin their questioning.
"Your name?"
"I don’t know."
"Your age?"
"I… I don’t know."
"Do you know where you are?"
You hesitate, shaking your head. "No."
"What year is it?"
Silence. A lump forms in your throat as you struggle to grasp at an answer that isn’t there.
One by one, the questions come, and your response remains the same.
I don’t know.
You notice the subtle exchange of glances between the doctors and the officer, silent conversations passing in looks you can’t decipher. A moment later, they step outside, leaving you alone with nothing but the echoes of their voices beyond the door.
"It seems like she’s experiencing amnesia," one of the doctors concludes.
"No memories, no identification…" the officer murmurs, her voice heavy with thought. "I’ll contact the relevant departments."
Some time later, the officer returns, but this time, she is not alone. Several more officers follow, along with the doctor, their presence thick with unspoken tension.
The room is quiet as they conduct more tests, scanning your face, taking your fingerprints, checking your vitals, asking more questions you cannot answer. You want to help, to give them something, anything, but your mind remains a hollow void.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the lead officer exchanges a glance with the doctor before giving a subtle nod. "Let’s step outside," he says, his tone unreadable.
The medical staff and officers file out of the room one by one, the door clicking shut behind them. You are left in silence, staring at the blank white ceiling, frustration and unease twisting in your chest.
Beyond the door, voices murmur in hushed urgency.
"No match," one officer mutters, tapping his tablet with a deep frown. "Facial recognition came up blank. She seems around 20 years old, so we ran her through missing persons databases from the past thirty years, just in case, and still...nothing."
"That doesn’t make sense," another officer argues. "Even if she had no legal records, someone should be looking for her. But there’s not a single report that even remotely resembles her description."
The doctor clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. "We’ve completed a full neurological scan. There’s no sign of trauma, no physical damage to the brain that could explain her amnesia. If this were a typical case of memory loss, we’d expect to see some form of head injury, but she’s completely intact."
"Then what’s causing it?" the lead officer asks.
The doctor sighs. "Psychological trauma. The psychiatrist believes her mind is repressing something...something so severe that it severed access to entire portions of her memory. She still understands language, basic concepts, and social etiquette, but she’s missing fundamental knowledge. When we showed her a communication tablet, she recognized its purpose but didn’t know what it was called. When asked about major cities, historical figures, or even current events, she drew a complete blank."
A younger officer frowns. "Could she have been kidnapped as a child? That might explain the gaps in her knowledge. She knows what technology is but doesn’t seem to know how to use it. Maybe she was raised in isolation?"
"That would make sense," another officer muses. "But it still doesn’t explain why there’s no record of her anywhere. Even off-grid communities have some kind of paper trail. And her clothing, it’s not from anywhere we recognize. The material, the design… it’s not local, not even underground fashion. Could she be from another country?"
The doctor continues, flipping through his notes. "Her physical condition is also concerning. She’s severely dehydrated and underweight, but there are no visible injuries, no scars, no signs of abuse. Whatever happened to her, it left no physical trace. It only affected her mind. And psychologically, she's also in a state of distress. Her responses are slow and detached, like she’s not fully present at the moment. It’s almost as if her mind is disconnected from the world around her."
The lead officer exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. "So, we have a girl with no past, no identity, and no explanation for her memory loss. We don’t even know if she’s from this country. This case just became a lot more complicated."
Inside the hospital room, you remain unaware of their conversation. You sit in silence, staring at the blank white ceiling, lost in the vast emptiness of your missing memories.
You have woken up in a world you don’t belong to.