Am I alive?
Darkness. Absolute and impenetrable.
My thoughts are fractured, colliding inside my head like distant echoes with no clear origin. I cannot grasp them—cannot even control their direction. They crash into something unseen and return distorted, unfamiliar.
How long have I been trapped in this spiral?
Voices surround me. Close enough to invade my ears, distant enough to carry no meaning. Broken syllables. Indistinct noise.
Is this real?
Or is my mind crafting one final illusion before it shuts down completely?
Who am I?
I don't want to forget. I don't want to dissolve into this emptiness. I want to be real—tangible—present.
Wait.
Did I just open my eyes?
I blink again, struggling to adjust to the sudden light stabbing my vision. A white ceiling stretches above me, unsettlingly familiar. A heavy wave of déjà vu crashes over my chest, suffocating.
I stare at it for a long moment. It isn't pure white—its surface is speckled with uneven shades of the same color.
A faint groan escapes my lips.
"…Ah."
A realization settles in.
I'm alive.
I can feel. I can perceive. I am conscious.
Carefully, I move my fingers. Then my arms. Then my legs. My body responds immediately, firmly, as if confirming my existence without question.
I turn my head slowly, afraid that any sudden movement might fracture something fragile inside me. My gaze lands on the bedside table.
White. Blindingly so. A sterile white that empties the mind for a fleeting second.
A glass of water sits on top.
It becomes the only thing that matters.
I reach for it and drink greedily, emptying it in a single breath without adjusting my position. Water spills down my neck, soaking my shoulder.
All I wanted…
was to go back.
Back where?
I don't know.
"Damn it."
The word slips out before I can stop it. A violent shiver runs down my spine—not from the cold water, but from the realization that follows.
Tick.
Tick.
A strange, broken rhythm.
Warm drops slide slowly down my cheek, sinking into the pillow beneath my head.
Am I crying?
My lower lip trembles uncontrollably. A sharp knot tightens around my throat, making every breath ache.
I exist.
I'm alive.
I remain frozen like that for what feels like several minutes, forcing myself not to collapse. Gradually, with each unsteady breath, the storm inside me quiets. The silence of the room seeps into my chest, leaving behind a fragile, uncertain calm.
Footsteps approach.
Steady. Confident. Unhurried.
Their rhythm tells me the person is either deeply familiar with this room—or unnervingly composed.
The door opens with deliberate gentleness. A woman in her late twenties steps inside. Her gaze is steady, neutral. No curiosity. No urgency.
Then her eyes widen.
Shock freezes her features.
"Huh?"
I instinctively glance toward the doorway.
She's gone.
As if she had never been there at all.
Before I can process it, three men in medical attire enter the room, followed by the sound of familiar footsteps—the same woman.
One of the men approaches me. He appears to be in his fifties, his warm smile carving gentle lines into his face. His eyes carry a carefully measured reassurance.
I watch him warily as the others check the machines surrounding my bed.
"Welcome back," he says softly, as though addressing a child waking from a long nightmare.
My body stiffens. I don't respond.
"I'm the physician overseeing your case," he continues. "Dr. Notch Jack. Neurology."
He pauses, studying my expression.
"You were involved in a car accident on December twenty-third, two thousand nineteen."
A brief hesitation.
"You were in a coma for three years."
Three years.
The words echo violently inside my head.
A coma.
I stare at him, unable to process what he's saying. He exchanges brief glances with the others.
"Vitals are stable," one of them reports, scanning a file. "All indicators are normal."
The second steps closer and reaches toward me.
My body reacts instantly.
I jerk my hand away, panic flooding my gaze.
Don't touch me.
I don't say it. I don't have to.
He freezes.
"I'm sorry if I startled you," he says gently. "May I examine you?"
I nod, shaken more by my own reaction than by him.
He checks my pulse, then raises a small flashlight and shines it into my eyes.
For a moment, my mind empties completely.
"Miss?"
"I'm… fine," I manage.
His expression tightens.
"You were unresponsive for nearly ten minutes. We called to you repeatedly."
Dr. Notch steps closer.
"Can you tell me your name?"
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Who am I?
…I don't remember.
I stare at him in silence. He exhales and sits beside my bed, removing his round glasses.
"As expected," he says calmly. "You've experienced memory loss."
"When a patient remains in a coma for an extended period—especially for years—the brain may activate defensive mechanisms. Amnesia is one of them."
He looks at me steadily.
"We're here to help you. A full medical team will support you step by step. Your memories may return gradually."
Warm tears slide down my cheeks.
I can't speak.
Noticing this, he places a hand on my shoulder.
I look at him, then at the others, then at the woman near the door.
"I'd like to be alone," I whisper.
After a brief exchange of looks, he nods.
They leave the room one by one.
Before closing the door, the woman turns back and offers a gentle smile.
"Call if you need anything. Everything will be okay."
The door closes.
Silence fills the room.
Everything will be okay.
Who am I?I don't know how many times I've asked myself that question, or how many times I've cried trying to answer it.
Was I a good person?Did I laugh too much… or was my laughter nothing more than a mask I wore to appear strong?
I want to know how I smelled when I woke up.The tone of my voice when I was angry.The color of my eyes in a mirror I can no longer remember.
I want to remember how I loved—and who I hated.If I ever hated anyone at all.
My family… I want to remember them.What were they like?Did I have a mother? A father?Was I alone before this… or so alone that no one would ask about me now?
Was I a bad person?
I want to know myself.I want to see my real face.Mom… Dad… anyone.
Save me.
The words left my lips as a trembling whisper, barely audible.
Please… I don't want to stay lost.My thoughts… they want to kill me.
I tried to stand, and within seconds, it felt as though the ground was being pulled out from beneath me.
I'm not sure if I actually fell.
I don't want to die.Not now. Not here. Not alone.Help me… please.
Something is wrong.
My chest tightened suddenly, as if my heart had turned into a hammer, striking my skull from the inside without mercy.
Thump.Thump.Thump.
The sound of my pulse grew so loud it drowned everything else out. Even the nearby machine began to change its tone, emitting a broken, erratic beep.
Am I… dying?
No. No. This can't be real.But the pain is.
My mind is screaming, firing warning signals in rapid succession, while my body convulses violently.
I try to breathe. To scream. Anything.
Inhale—
But it's shallow. Short.Like I'm drowning.
My body trembles, and I feel as though I'm about to collapse, even though I'm already lying down. I haven't moved. I haven't run. I haven't escaped.
I'm just here.
And something dangerous is happening.
I have no idea what it is.
The door bursts open violently.
Is it normal to enter like that here?
The same woman I saw earlier rushes toward me, shouting,"Breathe, miss!"
I look at her weakly as she wipes the tears streaming down my face. For a brief moment, I feel a sense of safety I didn't know I'd lost.
"I'm really lost… I don't know what to do, or what's happening to me… I'm scared."My voice breaks, the words barely intelligible.
"Please, don't cry. Everything will be fine."Her soft voice flows into my ears like a lullaby, making everything I just endured feel unreal.
Once I calm down slightly, she moves smoothly and prepares an injection.
"This is just a sedative. It will help you sleep."
I accept the dose without resistance, then ask her,"What's your name, miss?"
I wait anxiously for an answer despite the heaviness creeping into my body, but she only offers a vague smile.
My gaze drifts unconsciously to the left side of her chest.
No badge.
Suddenly—
She's right in front of my face, gripping the collar of my shirt violently.
A smile spreads across her lips—unnatural.Her eyes are wide. Too wide.
A chill runs down my spine.
Her smile widens…
And then my muscles go slack.
Everything goes dark .
ding… ding.
[ WARNING! ]
[ System Load Error ]
[ Conditions Not Met ]
Huh?
What is this?