The next morning felt normal.
Too normal.
I woke up, got ready, and left for school.
Nothing strange happened.
"No loss," I thought.
"Maybe he was joking."
At school, I walked into my classroom.
Same desks.
Same noise.
Same faces.
I sat down and opened my bag.
Notebook.
Pen.
Water bottle.
Everything was there.
I relaxed a little.
During first period, the teacher asked a question.
I raised my hand without thinking.
Then I stopped.
Something felt… wrong.
I knew the answer.
But the words didn't come out.
My mouth opened.
Nothing.
The teacher frowned.
"Speak."
I swallowed.
Still nothing.
My heart started beating fast.
"I… I know this," I whispered.
But the words were gone.
The teacher moved on.
Students laughed softly.
I sat down, confused.
That was strange.
At lunch, my friends were talking about a funny moment from last week.
"You remember that, right?" one of them asked me.
I smiled.
But inside, my mind was blank.
"I… don't remember," I said slowly.
They stared at me.
"Are you okay?" someone asked.
I laughed nervously.
"Yeah. Just tired."
But I wasn't tired.
Something was missing.
After school, I walked home quietly.
I tried to remember small things.
Yesterday's homework.
A joke someone told me.
A scene from a movie.
Some things were there.
Some weren't.
That evening, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
You noticed it.
I stared at the screen.
This is the loss, I realized.
I typed:
What did you take?
The reply came calmly.
Unknown Number:
Not taken. Hidden.
My fingers felt cold.
Hidden where? I typed.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
Unknown Number:
You lost access to a few memories.
I sat down hard on my bed.
"That's not small," I whispered.
The phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number:
They were moments you never valued.
I closed my eyes.
School answers.
Small talks.
Everyday moments.
Things I never thought mattered.
I typed slowly:
Can I get them back?
The reply took longer this time.
Unknown Number:
That depends on your next choice.
I stared at the message.
Another choice.
Another step forward.
I didn't know how far this would go.
But now I understood something clearly:
This wasn't a game about fear.
It was a game about attention.