I had no idea what to do right now.
Sitting on the side of my bed, a woman with silver hair, presumably around her thirties. She was sobbing while holding my hand. The maids behind her looked worried. This was because of what I said earlier.
Apparently, this silver haired woman was my mother? Obviously I didn't remember anything about her, about this place, heck even about this 'current' me. I said the 'current me' because my body felt weird. I was smaller and my skin tone was lighter, inching closer to pale category even.
This body wasn't mine. Why was I here in the first place? I could recall my memory as your-average-neurosurgeon just fine but about this body? None, whatsoever.
"M-Madam…"
The maids behind trailed worrily, losing words on the sight of their sobbing mistress.
"Just…" The woman choked on her tears. "...how much more I have to lose?"
"My husband and now my son. Heavens, why was fate so cruel?"
What would you do as parents when your own children suffered amnesia and couldn't remember a thing about you? I obviously would feel heartbroken, especially if that same accident that caused your child to lose his memory also caused your husband's death.
When your son awoke from a coma and the first thing he said was, "Who are you?" , any mother's heart would shatter.
I looked between the maids behind confusedly, unsure about what to say or do. Concern and worry plagued their eyes, yet they offer no words. Understandably so, as if I was in their position, I wouldn't have any words to offer either.
"P-Please d-don't cry…." A weak and foreign voice slipped from my mouth as I stuttered.
I didn't know what to do. Memory made a person, and lacking the memory this body once had, I was no more than an usurper. The weak consolation was the only thing I could offer.
"Madam, we ought to let Young Master rest." One of the maids spoke up. "He might be awake now, but his injury is still…"
For a few moments, I felt the sobbing grow quiet. Then the silver-haired woman looked at me. Her teary deep blue eyes reflected the sunlight.
"You're right." She spoke, wiping her tears away. "Yes, there's still a long way before he recovers."
She then held my hand tightly and smiled at me, softly yet sadly at the same time.
"Ciel, my dear. You might not remember me but always know this—no matter what happens, no matter even if your memory never returns, I'm your mother. Always is, I'm always here for you."
"Mmm…" I could only offer the weak nod.
-
-
A few days passed after the meeting with my mother, I was lectured by one of the maids named Carla. I said 'lectured' because she filled me in about myself, about this family, about—well, everything for short.
My name was Ciel, and this family name was Edelweiss. A flower name, how pretty.
Edelweiss was a German word–combination of 'edel' which means noble, and 'weiss' which means white. A white noble. Considering my silver borderlining white hair color, that was an apt name. I also told that my father was the one who married into the family, so the silvery-white hair was the inherited trait of the Edelweiss' family members such as me and my mother.
Ciel, my given name, in French means 'sky'. Not that it had some kind of connection here, though. I just found the name was pretty, both my given name and my family name.
About my look, Carla once gave me a pocket mirror. My silvery-white hair and my deep blue eyes, all were exact copies of my mother. Also, I looked fairly young. How surprised I was when Carla told me I was merely fifteen years old.
Still, so many questions lingered. I wasn't a religious person, I'd admit that much. But I heard in some religions there was a concept of cycle of death and rebirth—a reincarnation, to be exact. But then another question popped up. When reincarnating, were you supposed to retain your previous life's memory like this? How did it end up like this? Was I reincarnated, losing my memory because of blunt trauma to the head, but in exchange regained the memories of my past life? How absurd.
"Are you following me so far, Young Master?" Carla asked worriedly. Her long deep brown hair swayed as she leaned closer to me. "If it's too much, we can end it for today."
I shook my head lightly, "Yes, it's okay. I can still go on."
"I'm glad you seem to be doing fine, Young Master. Your mother would feel elated."
Carla let out a relieved sigh. But then her expression turned serious. "But still…I'd recommend you to take a break, Young Master. At the very least, let's save it until after lunch."
I tilted my head quizzically, shooting the questioning look into her.
She then smiled softly, with a hint of concern palpable on her face, "Because the next one is going to revolve around politics…."