The world was a blur of muffled voices and the steady beeping of machines when Lin Hye Ji slipped in and out of consciousness. Even in the dark, fragments of speech lodged themselves in the corners of her mind — voices that tasted of perfume and old anger.
"…are you sure she'll believe you and speak up for you?" the woman asked, nails pinching Lin Hye Ji's fingers so hard the pain became a small, bright star on her fair skin
The other voice — softer, practiced — answered without hesitation. "Of course. I'm the only living family she has now. Who else will she turn to? If she resists, I'll have the doctor sign her away. A little note, and they'll lock her up in the asylum as an unstable mind."
Su Man held his hand affectionately and smiled, the kind of smile that bloomed with false concern, lips curved but eyes cold. "You could never hurt her," she said aloud, as if testing how the lie would sound. "she's still your daughter you know "
"Not the only one," Mr Lin snapped, impatient. "I have Jai Li and Lin Hao to think of. That inspector brother of yours has already covered everything — the case is handled. We just need to tidy the loose ends and prepare for our new home." he gave her a light kiss
A ripple of sinister laughter — pleased, conspiratorial — slotted between those last words, and Lin Hye Ji felt a small, hot panic press at the back of her throat. She tried to open her eyes, to reach for the warmth of her mother's hand, but the darkness swallowed the motion like water.
*** *** ***
When light finally came, it arrived like an accusation. Lin Hye Ji blinked, then squeezed her lids shut, letting her pupils shrink until the hospital room's glare softened into shapes. For a moment she listened only: she could smell the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant. She wrinkled her nose, having always hated the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant.
Housekeeper Shen was the first face that filled her view — drawn and wet-eyed, the lines of her apron trembling as if she had been gripping it through the nights. She flung herself into Lin Hye Ji's arms, sobbing into the girl's shoulder like a wind that had been trapped too long.
"Thank God, you're awake. You had us so worried," Shen breathed, voice high and urgent.
Lin Hye Ji's head swam, she scratched her head in embarrassment and gave out a light chuckle— she held onto house _keeper Shen hands as she wiped her eyes"Auntie Shen… did I faint getting excited about the picnic? Where's Mom? Why isn't she here?" The question slipped out small and frightened.
The room sank into a strange silence as if the air itself hesitated to answer. Her father, the doctor, a nurse in a neat cap, and three officers watched her with a mix of relief and something unreadable. Her father's face tightened; his mouth moved, searching for the right lies.
"Little Ji," he began, voice carefully calm, "don't you remember what happened?"
"I—" She rose on the swell of a memory then watched it fracture. "We were getting ready for the picnic, weren't we? Mom was packing the basket while I went to prepare some of my toys "
"Ah." Housekeeper Shen's voice cracked open with panic now. "Did what happened when—when your young master went missing happen again?" She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide and glistening as she whispered it to the hearing of Mr Shen.
Outside the curtained bed, the doctor's clipped footsteps slowed as he folded his hands behind his back, face settling into professional sympathy. Mr. Lin stepped forward, the corners of his smile thin and brittle, as if joy and calculation warred on his lips. The officers stood by Mr Lin listening attentively
"Doctor, please—what's wrong with my daughter?" he demanded, although his hands found each other with the steadiness of someone rehearsed.
The doctor, who had attended Madame Lin for years, exhaled heavily as he balanced the glasses at the edge on his nose. He studied Lin Hye Ji file like one studies a fragile instrument. "Her mother's death," he said slowly, "was a major shock. Seeing such a traumatic scene can make the brain protect itself. In her case, the mind has suppressed the most painful memories —which lead to the selective amnesia."
A silence fell as relief flashed across Mr. Lin's face so fast it could have been hunger satisfying itself. He gave a short, guileless laugh . He felt that even fate was at his side
"Oh, that's... that's actually for the best," he said, voice supressed into cheer as he tried to explain his happiness "I've been worried she would grow up haunted by that vision. If she's forgotten it all, I'll have make up a story for her mother's death, something less bloody and terrifying
The doctor's jaw tightened. He had known Madame Lin, had seen the slow, exacting love she lavished on her children. He put both palms together, a doctor's reflex for inadequate comfort. "It won't be simple," he said, honest and heavy. "but it would still be better for the growth of the child. "
Mr. Lin's laugh came again, too bright, as if joy and strategy had been trained to appear together." I'll think of something," he said, too quickly. "I wouldn't want her to live in trauma "he glaced at the officers who stood like weathered monuments.
"
"Does that mean she'll recover her memories soon?" one of the officers — the one with the sharp eyes who seemed to lead the others — asked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Mr. Lin stiffened. The question struck him like a pail of cold water flung across his back, chilling him down to the marrow. His fingers twitched before he clasped them tightly behind him, forcing a composed mask back over his features.
"Yes," the doctor admitted.
The doctor's brows drew together as he leaned forward, voice steady but solemn. "But it is uncertain. She could recall everything within a week… or a month… or perhaps not for years. The mind is unpredictable. As long as she doesn't encounter any triggers, the amnesia may hold."
"Triggers?" Mr. Lin asked quickly, though his tone strained to sound casual. His eyes darted toward his daughter's bed, then back to the doctor.
The physician folded his hands. "Anything connected to the trauma. The scene of the accident… or a situation that strongly resembles it. Even a sound, a smell, or a careless word could bring the memories rushing back."
Mr. Lin drew in a slow breath through his nose, holding it in his chest for a heartbeat before exhaling with a thin, careful smile. "I see… I'll keep that in mind."
But as the doctor's gaze lingered on him, it was plain that Mr. Lin's exhale was not relief — it was calculation, the sound of a man already plotting how to keep the past buried.