I opened my eyes.
Beep..
They were heavy.
Not just sleepy - heavy - but like something had glued them shut from the inside.
My vision swam the moment I forced them open.
Beep.. Beep...
The ceiling above me blurred, warped, spun slightly to the left before stabilizing.
Whe... Where am I ??
The thought didn't just pass through my head. It stuck there. Clawed into it.
I blinked slowly, trying to focus.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The faint rhythmic beeping reached my ears first.
Then the cool stiffness of the sheets beneath my fingers. The smell - sterile, sharp, chemical.
A hospital.
Wait… Is this a hospital?
What the fuck.
How the hell am I in a hospital?
What happened to me?
The moment he tried to dig deeper into his memories.
A sharp, stabbing headache split through his skull like a blade forced between bone and brain. "Ugh… shit… my head…"
It wasn't just pain. It felt like something inside me was rejecting the act of remembering.
Like my brain physically refused to cooperate.
On the outside, I stayed still.
Inside? I was spiraling.
My heart hammered violently against my ribs. My thoughts overlapped each other in a chaotic mess.
I tried to move my face - to frown, to wince - but nothing changed.
Nothing.
It was like my face wasn't connected to me.
Blank.
Emotionless.
I tried to smile just to test it.
Nothing moved.
Shit!. Calm down!!.
I need to calm the fuck down!!!..
". . ."
Footsteps echoed outside the room.
Each step grew louder, heavier, until they stopped right outside the door.
Click...
The door opened. I didn't move.
A woman stepped inside.
Her clothes were unfamiliar.
White uniform.
Clipboard.
Hair neatly tied back.
Yet professional.
But something about her felt… off.
As far as I knew - if I even knew anything - I came from another world.
Another life.
Yet when I tried to remember it - Blank.
Nothing. Like someone erased the entire file.
I swallowed and looked at her fully.
And then - A chill crawled down my spine.
Her gaze.
Dull.
Empty.
She checked the monitor first. Adjusted the IV line attached to my arm with smooth, practiced movements.
Her fingers were steady.
Controlled. Like she'd done this a thousand times before.
Then she looked at me.
Her lips curved into a small smile.
"Well, look at that," she said lightly. "You're finally awake."
". . ."
My throat felt like sandpaper.
I didn't answer.
Silence stretched.
She stepped closer to the bed.
Close enough that I could see her eyes clearly.
And that's when it happened.
An invisible pressure dropped on me.
No warning.
No reason.
Just - Weight.
Like the air thickened.
Like gravity doubled.
My lungs tightened.
What the fuck..
I didn't move.
Because couldn't.
Inside, I was screaming.
Outside, I stared back at her with the same blank expression.
Her eyes.
They weren't smiling.
They were hollow.
Too still.
Too deep.
Like staring into something that didn't reflect you back.
My heartbeat accelerated violently.
My fingers curled under the blanket, gripping the sheets so tightly my knuckles went pale.
It felt like I was being evaluated.
Measured.
Weighed. Then - It vanished.
The pressure disappeared instantly.
Like it had never been there.
The air felt normal again.
But my heart was still racing.
My breathing shallow.
Cold sweat forming at the back of my neck.
What the hell was that!!?
Am I overthinking?
Am I hallucinating?
Another pulse of pain struck my skull. I exhaled weakly. "Uhh…"
I'm probably just tired.
Nausea rose in my throat.
The room tilted slightly again before settling.
"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.
Her smile looked genuine.
Her eyes were still dull.
"…Tired," I said.
Safe answer.
Neutral answer.
She nodded. "That's normal. You were unconscious for three days."
Three days?
My chest tightened.
She shined a small penlight into my eyes.
"Follow the light."
I obeyed.
"Good. Pupillary response is normal."
She checked my pulse manually this time.
Her fingers pressed against my wrist. "Your vitals are stable. Blood pressure slightly elevated, likely stress-related. No external injuries. CT scan showed no hemorrhage. However…"
She paused. "Your case is unusual."
Unusual.
"How?"
My voice sounded smaller than I intended.
She glanced at her clipboard.
"When you were brought in, you had no visible trauma. No signs of a fall. No signs of a seizure. Yet you were unresponsive. Your brain activity showed irregular spikes in the temporal and frontal lobes."
My stomach dropped.
"That usually correlates with memory processing," she continued. "Emotional recall. Identity retention."
She looked at me directly. "You didn't respond to your own name at first."
She said it casually. "Aiden."
The name hit differently. Aiden.
It echoed inside my skull like something ancient.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
So that's my name.
"Aiden," she repeated softly. "Do you know where you are?"
"I… hospital."
"And do you remember why you're here?"
Silence.
I searched my mind.
Nothing.
No accident.
No event.
No past.
Just darkness.
Slowly, I shook my head.
Inside, panic clawed up my throat.
Why the fuck can't I remember anything? Did something happened to me??
Am I
"That's alright," she said quickly, almost soothing. "Memory loss can manifest in layers."
She began writing again.
"In your case, it appears to be retrograde amnesia with selective emotional suppression."
I blinked.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," she explained calmly, "you're not only missing past memories. You're also showing signs of emotional detachment."
Her gaze sharpened for just a second.
"You're remarkably calm for someone who can't remember his own life."
That sent a quiet shiver through me.
"I…" I hesitated.
Am i always like this.
Or I was just unable to show anything?
She continued, "Your facial muscles show minimal micro-expression changes. Your stress levels are high internally, but externally you remain neutral. That disconnect is… interesting."
Interesting? Am I a case study to you?
Before I could respond - The door opened again.
The nurse turned.
A young girl stepped inside.
She looked around my age.
Maybe younger.
She held a cup of water with both hands like it was fragile.
"Mira, you're here," the nurse said.
Mira froze when she saw me awake.
Her eyes widened. "Uhh? - yo... you're awake?!"
Her voice trembled.
She looked exhausted.
Dark circles under her eyes.
Lips dry.
Eyes slightly swollen - like she'd been crying repeatedly.
"Yes," the nurse replied smoothly. "He's awake. And quiet responsive."
For a split second - Her tone shifted.
Cold. Sharp.
Almost - Hostile.
It was subtle.
But I felt it.
Then it was gone.
Mira rushed to my side.
Too fast. Too close.
"Aiden," she whispered. "Do you recognize me?"
There it was again. Aiden.
The name felt heavier now.
I studied her face.
Hope. Fear. Desperation.
If I was healthy, she would've hugged me already.
I wanted to lie.
I wanted to ease that look in her eyes.
But "I…" I swallowed. "…I'm sorry."
Her breath hitched.
"I don't remember who you are." I gave a small, hollow smile.
Stranger to stranger.
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
The nurse stepped forward.
"Please don't pressure him," she said gently.
"Young Master Aiden is experiencing acute retrograde amnesia."
Young master?
"Based on neurological scans," she continued, "there's no structural damage. Which suggests psychological or external influence." External influence? She kept writing.
"Short-term memory is intact. Motor function stable. Speech coherent. However, autobiographical memory - family, identity, emotional attachment - appears suppressed."
Mira's voice cracked. "Will it come back?"
The nurse paused.
"It can," she said carefully. "But forcing recollection may worsen neural stress. His brain is actively resisting memory retrieval. Every time he tries to remember, his heart rate spikes and intracranial pressure rises."
That explains the headaches.
"He needs rest. Familiar stimuli. Safe environments." Her eyes flicked to me again.
Too calculating. Too observant.
"And.. monitoring," she added quietly.
Monitoring??..
Something about the way she said that felt wrong.
I glanced at the clipboard again.
Why does it feel like she's writing more than medical notes?
My thoughts spiraled again.
I'm not crazy.
I'm not hallucinating am I.
I transmigrated.
I know I did.
This body isn't mine.
But somehow it is.
I can feel it.
The weight of it.
The discomfort.
The unfamiliar muscle memory when I move my fingers.
The strange emptiness where a life should be.
Mira stepped closer carefully. "Aiden… it's okay," she whispered. "You don't have to remember right now." Her voice trembled.
But it was warm. Real.
Unlike the nurse's smile.
I looked at Mira.
Then at the nurse.
Something is wrong.
I just don't know what yet.
And the worst part?
I don't even know who I am.
Just a name.
Aiden.
And the terrifying feeling that something - or someone - is watching me far too closely.
I sighed.
Thinking too much is killing me.
Mira's hands trembled as she fidgeted, her knuckles white against her palms. "B-But he… he said my name earlier…"
"I know," the nurse replied, her voice calm but with a faint edge of surprise, as if the fact had caught her off guard. "That doesn't mean everything is gone. Memory isn't always all-or-nothing."
Mira froze, her chest rising and falling unevenly.
Tears clung stubbornly to her lashes, refusing to fall.
Her shoulders shook slightly, as though every breath might break something fragile inside her.
She looked at me.
Her eyes were wet, raw, and desperate. "…It's me," she whispered. "Your sister. Mira. Aiden… please… remember."
Her voice quivered under the weight of something she'd been trying to hold back for days - weeks. Or maybe her entire life.
Then, without thinking, she moved closer to the bed.
Her face pressed into the sheets, and her shoulders began to shake violently.
"It's me… Aiden… please… just remember… Aiden… Aiden…" She lifted her head slowly, her eyes locking onto mine. Pitiful. Painful. Raw.
Like her heart was being torn apart right in front of me. Sister…?
I didn't expect this. I thought she would react with shock, disbelief - normal siblings behavior. Teasing. Complaining. Endless questions.
But instead, the atmosphere… suffocating. Heavy.
Like the air itself pressed down, thick and unyielding.
And then - the pressure returned. Heavier than before. A weight I couldn't explain.
Mira's sobs echoed softly, muffled into the bedsheets.
I reached out instinctively and patted her shoulder.
Pity. Sympathy. Guilt. Like I was responsible for all of this. Forget the past, I told myself. The past is gone. I'm here now.
Mira slowly lifted her head again. Her eyes searched mine, desperate for recognition.
I nodded gently. But the moment I looked at her… I froze.
Her gaze - just for a second - reminded me of the nurse. Not identical, not fully, but eerily similar. That same depth, the faint flicker of something unreadable.
My head started spinning from overthinking.
The weight in the room faded again, as if it had never existed.
But I was sweating. Afraid. And I didn't know why. God… she's my sister… what is wrong with me??
My throat dried completely. "Okay," I said softly, voice weak, hoarse from tension. "I'll… remember that. Mira."
I forced a small, careful smile, leaning forward to hug her. She was suffering - and maybe this was what a brother should do. "It's okay, Mira… it's okay."
She pressed closer, and for the first time since I woke, I felt a flicker of genuine warmth. Not a lie. Not forced.
Mira stiffened for a brief instant, surprised by the embrace, but she didn't pull away.
She wrapped her arms around me tighter. Then, just out of the corner of my eye, I noticed it. The nurse, standing silently, observing us. Her gaze sharp. Intense. Calculating.
Mira's lips curled into a faint, almost teasing smile - as if she knew something she wasn't letting anyone else see.
Then she buried her face back into my chest, holding me closer than before.
Like she didn't want to let go. Like she didn't want to share.
And in that fleeting, nearly imperceptible moment…
Her eyes, hidden from me, held something beyond grief. Something else. Something I couldn't - and maybe shouldn't - understand yet.