"Ren, wake up! Wake up, honey!"
A soft voice rang in his ears—gentle, warm, filled with care.
Ren?
But… I'm Leon.
He wanted to speak, to question, to move, but nothing responded. His limbs didn't stir. His mouth wouldn't open. His body wasn't listening.
Wait... I can't control anything. Is this even my body?
His eyes opened slowly—yet not by his will.
What he saw was unfamiliar.
A woman stood before him, gently shaking his shoulder. Her face radiated kindness, with soft eyes and a voice that could melt even the hardest of mornings. She looked to be in her late thirties, maybe early forties—carrying the warmth of someone who had loved deeply and long. There was no mistaking it—she was a mother.
Her smile grew as she noticed his eyes open.
"There you are. Come on, Ren, breakfast is getting cold," she said with a laugh.
What... is all this?
He tried to speak, but again—nothing. His consciousness was adrift inside a body that moved without him.
Are these… Ren's memories?
