The sun dipped low behind the rooftops of Lumeris, turning the sky into a wash of orange and deep violet. Evening crowds filled the narrow streets—workers returning home, merchants closing stalls, beggars settling near lantern lights.
Serina and I were among them, walking side by side toward the place we called home.
A small building made of cracked brick and weathered wood.
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing special.
But even so… it felt warm.
Serina hummed softly—a tune I didn't recognize but Michael clearly did. His memories responded to the melody, tugging faintly at my chest.
That feeling again.
That strange mix of déjà vu and hollowness.
Like remembering a dream that was never mine.
---
We reached the wooden door of our rented room. The paint had long chipped away, revealing the dark grain beneath.
Serina pushed it open and stepped inside first.
"I bought some bread on the way," she said, setting the basket on the table. "It was discounted because it's from the morning batch."
"Thanks," I said automatically.
She tilted her head. "You look tired. Did something happen at work?"
Work…
Michael used to juggle at least three small jobs—cleaning, delivering, doing odd tasks for shops and vendors. I had no choice but to continue most of them. The pay was miserable, but it kept us alive.
I sat on the old wooden chair by the window.
"No… just thinking," I replied.
Serina placed a cup of warm tea in front of me and took a seat across.
"About your memories again?" she asked quietly.
I froze.
She noticed?
"Your eyes look strange sometimes," she continued. "Like you're trying to remember something that keeps slipping away."
Her gaze was soft—concerned, but not demanding.
I let out a long breath.
"…Yeah. Something like that."
I told her the truth—as much as I could.
"It feels like pieces are missing. Like I remember Michael's life, but some parts are blurred. Empty. Wrong."
Memories of conversations that end abruptly. Memories of people whose faces are smudged, like they were painted over. Emotions I should feel—but don't.
It was terrifying.
Serina placed her hands on the table and leaned forward.
"Then don't force yourself," she said gently. "Even if you forget everything… I'm still here."
Her words were simple.
But they hit harder than they should.
A warmth swelled inside my chest—Michael's feelings bleeding into mine. But I wasn't Michael.
I was Han Jaemin.
A stranger living in someone else's life.
I looked away, unsure how to respond.
Serina smiled faintly. "From tomorrow, no more overworking. We can figure things out together."
Together.
The word lingered in my head.
---
Later that night, after Serina fell asleep, I sat alone on the creaking chair beside the window. The moonlight—crimson and haunting—spilled across the wooden floor.
My thoughts twisted.
If Michael loved her…
And I lived in his body…
Then what about me?
What was I supposed to feel?
I rubbed my temples.
My head throbbed—
a dull, suffocating ache that had been growing worse for the past five days.
Something was wrong with these memories.
Too wrong.
I reached for a notebook Serina bought me yesterday, hoping it would help me keep track of the fragments in my mind.
Day 5.
Woke up again in Michael's body.
The memories help me act normal, but…
The rest of the page remained blank.
I couldn't write it.
Because I didn't know what I feared more—
That I wasn't real in this world.
Or that Michael still existed inside me somewhere.
Watching.
Waiting.
Trying to take back his life.
A sudden knock on the wooden frame made me jump.
Serina stirred from her mattress. "Michael…? Aren't you sleeping yet?"
I looked back.
Her eyes were half-open, sleepy but warm.
"…Not yet," I whispered. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"
She shook her head and gave a small smile.
"Come to bed."
I hesitated—
then slowly nodded.
As I lay down on the thin mattress next to hers, listening to her breathing slow and soften, a strange thought crept into my mind.
Something was coming.
Something tied to these missing memories.
And Serina…
She was the key.
The first piece of a puzzle I didn't understand yet.
A puzzle that would soon shatter the peaceful days we shared.
---