On a bridge in the southern part of Puston City, Donald met his wife.
What a beautiful scene it would be for someone with amnesia to be reunited with their loved ones, embracing, kissing, and pouring out their hearts to each other. Such a scene was almost predictable.
But in reality, both parties remained highly reserved, and even a first meeting between strangers might have been more relaxed.
Donald remained restrained due to the aversion he felt toward the woman before him and his complete ignorance of the situation. He dared not speak casually, fearing that the slightest word might reveal his unease.
What about the young woman before him? She appeared to be in her early twenties, with a calm and composed demeanor. Why did she exhibit such restraint, bordering on wariness?
After about two minutes of silence, Donald began to realize that there must be some kind of issue or conflict between his former self and this girl, making it even harder for him to speak up.
Oh no... What should I do now? I can't say a word... Should I ask her if she's eaten? Or should I tell her that I accidentally fell and hit my head, causing amnesia?
Donald instinctively realized that doing so would lead to a disastrous outcome, so he wisely chose to remain silent.
When it came to patience, he was confident.
"I will reduce my meetings with Freddy in the future."
After a moment, the girl spoke first, but the information was a bit overwhelming.
Who is Freddy?
What is your relationship with him?
Why are you two telling me this specifically?
And in such a resigned, compromising tone.
"Um..."
Besides the ambiguous "um," Donald really didn't know how to respond.
"I agree," "No problem," "I support your approach," or "No, I disagree, your approach is wrong"—none of these responses were appropriate.
He wanted to avoid responses that were too subjective.
Hide your weaknesses. For matters you're unfamiliar with, hide your thoughts as much as possible. Don't give the other person an opportunity to expose your lack of understanding of the matter, which could lead to suspicion and misunderstanding.
The current Donald couldn't withstand any probing into the details of his life.
"Hmm? No matter what you think, I'll explain it to you one last time: the relationship between him and me has absolutely nothing to do with what you imagine... You have the right to continue doubting, but go home. You've been missing for a week, and I told the neighbors you were staying at a friend's house... I hope you'll think more carefully before running away next time. I don't have much time to search for you everywhere."
The girl didn't say anything else. Donald Grant's silence puzzled her, as the argument a few days ago had been quite intense. However, she soon relaxed, seeing the man's disheveled state and the faint scent around him, clearly indicating he had experienced the drawbacks of running away.
On the other hand, this could also be considered a good thing.
Having someone to guide him, Donald was naturally delighted. At least he wouldn't have to go to the police station and avoid the awkward situation of having to explain why he didn't even know where his own home was.
The question now was what had happened between this girl and her previous self.
From the feedback in his memories, they were a couple.
There was a conflict between them, and it was significant enough for Donald to run away from home... No, in her eyes, running away from home might have been Donald's preparation for his exorcism ritual. Was this a premeditated argument?
But it was also possible that the argument had provoked Donald, causing him to make a deal with the devil to obtain something.
There's also a crucial point: after the argument, why did Donald leave home like a timid wife? Typically, isn't it the woman who returns to her parents' home?
**
233 Iris Street.
Before him stood a two-story house. From top to bottom, it had a flat roof and a small balcony. The walls were built with a mix of brown and red bricks. The second-floor windowsill was adorned with numerous potted plants. The first-floor entrance was made of redwood, with a nameplate hanging above it. On either side were other houses with similar structures, suggesting this was a residential area.
Upon entering, the interior was clean and tidy. with an umbrella stand, shoe cabinet, and hallway. This is the first section. At the end of the hallway is the kitchen, with the living room on the right and the staircase leading upstairs on the left.
"Grant, I don't want to argue with you anymore. Here's your living expenses for this month—10 shillings, which is 1 shilling more than usual. This is the last time I'll give you living expenses. You've been out of university for nearly half a year now. From here on out, you need to find a job on your own, I recall you studied theology? You could try applying for clerical positions at a church, or... In any case, you must start taking responsibility for yourself."
The money bag was handed over, and Donald instinctively took it. The action felt routine, and the formulaic tone made him feel a chill, as if this were an employer distributing wages to an employee each month.
The girl's gaze toward him carried an unmistakable sense of detachment and disdain, and Donald felt it.
In fact, after realizing that he had graduated six months ago yet was still asking a girl of similar age for money, he had also secretly despised himself.
The bedroom was upstairs. As the girl walked toward the living room, Donald did not follow her but instead went upstairs alone. He needed to sort out his thoughts and understand his current situation and circumstances.
At this point, talking to anyone or expressing an opinion seemed inappropriate.
The strained relationship between the couple served as a good buffer at this point.
However, halfway up the stairs, Donald's gaze inadvertently fell on the girl on the living room sofa, and he suddenly realized an issue he had previously overlooked.
In his memory, Donald's parents had died in a grocery store fire four years ago, and his marriage to the girl must have taken place in recent years, as both were still young.
By all accounts, after marriage, she was Donald's family, and in a strict sense, she was his only family. The reunion with a relative should be cherished, shouldn't it?
Even if there were irreconcilable conflicts between them, even if there was hatred, wouldn't that be a way to deepen the impression?
Why is the impression so blurry? Even when he sees her, the only words and emotions that come to mind are so sparse they can be described as barren.
There are no other memories to recall.
His palm suddenly tightens, gripping the railing. Donald vaguely senses something amiss but cannot grasp the fleeting insight.
He gently rubbed his temples, continued walking, and finally reached the second floor.
Another corridor, with three rooms in total. Donald pursed his lips, took out the keyring from his pocket, which had three keys on it. One was for the front door, and he had seen an identical one in his wife's hand, so one of the remaining two keys must be for the bedroom.
He was about to try opening the door, but it turned out he didn't need to bother, because as soon as he reached the first door, he saw the nameplate hanging on it.
Donald Grant
He took a step back and looked at the room next to it, and sure enough, there was another nameplate.
Infinita Alfred
That was the girl's name, Donald thought to himself.
They were separated, or perhaps... they had never lived together at all.
Splash~
Turning the knob, the metal showerhead sprayed water over his body. Having not bathed for some time due to the exorcism ritual, the clean, comfortable feeling improved his mood.
Just while taking a shower.
In the upper left corner of the bathroom was a mechanical water meter, made of dark brown material, with gears visible inside the dial. As he watched the numbers change, Donald turned off the water and stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself.
He had fair skin, medium-length light golden hair that reached his ears, emerald green eyes that differed from his wife's, a high nose bridge, and thin lips. Overall, his features were deep-set and quite three-dimensional.
If he shaved off the stubble on his chin, he could easily make a living off his looks, as they would say in his previous life.
"This is who I am now..."
Staring at his reflection, Donald adjusted to his current state, but the disorientation he had felt earlier in the alley returned once more.
Closing his eyes and opening them again, his reflection in the mirror suddenly turned completely pale, his sclera turned pitch black, and his emerald-green eyes gradually took on a red glow...
"No!"
He growled, punching the mirror with all his might. Since there were people downstairs, he deliberately kept his voice low and restrained his strength.
The next moment, the reflection in the mirror returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.
His palms, arms, neck, chest, back, thighs, and even his buttocks—Donald, naked after his shower, spun around in front of the mirror. If anyone else had been there, the label of "pervert" would have been firmly established.