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Chapter Three: Alive or Dead
Darkness… blackness without end, without any light, engulfed me…
I was alive again.
How many times can a human die? I don't know. I don't think anyone really knows.
I wanted to scream, to call out if someone was here—but I couldn't.
Time had no meaning here. Each second felt like a century; each century like a second.
Is it true that there's nothing after death?
If there is nothing, then what am I in this darkness?
Is anyone there? Is anyone there?
So much time passed that I forgot how to speak.
The memories of two lives faded into oblivion.
Who am I?
I became part of the darkness.
The last shred of consciousness was being dragged into the dark abyss, but a dark hand seized it.
"Oh, lowly and vile creature, you possess no knowledge of existence, nor any power of this astonishing world.
You are but a desire, only a desire, only a desire.
Know this: you are merely mortal.
Yet you must live, for you are the desire for death.
Accept a fraction of the knowledge of death."
He heard no voice. He had no control in this darkness. Truly, he was only a desire.
Perhaps, for the exalted, the lives of lowly creatures are merely whims.
William's tiny spark of consciousness was the last point of light in this darkness, flickering softly…
Like a firefly of solitude in a dark and dangerous forest.
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William slowly opened his eyes in a dimly lit room.
His heavy eyelids pressed together. He had no strength to move, no energy to speak.
All he could see were the many devices connected around him.
A faint sound came from the door. He wanted to turn his head but couldn't.
A man in white approached him. William had no memory of this man.
Suddenly, a light struck his eyes. He shut them angrily, then reopened them.
Before him stood several men and women in white coats.
The doctors were speaking, but William only heard a muffled, deep sound.
After several more tests, in the astonished eyes of several doctors, William fell asleep.
A middle-aged doctor walked down the hallway, passed several doors, went up the stairs, and entered the room of a tall, elderly man with round glasses.
He handed the examination sheets to the old man. The man nodded, and the doctor stepped back.
The elderly man sat in his chair, looking over the photos, the examination results, and the doctors' opinions.
A small boy—but twelve years old. Why is this boy so thin and short?
The old man shook his head in surprise.
No family. No identification records. No proof of existence in this world.
Was this boy born from rarefied air?
No strange genes, no unusual powers…
Due to a traffic accident and impact with a rock, his memory was completely lost.
The part of the brain responsible for speech was destroyed, reduced entirely to a blank slate.
The old man looked at the sheets with a mix of surprise, mild happiness, and sympathy.
He then took a sheet with something written on it and stamped it with a circular seal, with the letter K in the center, facing upwards.
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A few days later, William could walk, but he had no memory of his previous life, nor of being William, nor of escaping the orphanage, nor of the accident.
He only remembered his name, and the moments in this hospital, which resembled a basement.
Perhaps, one day, he would regain his memories.
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