He shows his displeasure as he deeply furrows his eyebrows. 

Go on. I cajole silently as I furiously tap on the written message on the notepad. Placing the notepad on the bed, my hands are now free for me to raise my hands against my neck, forming them into a shape that is alike to how one would strangle another.

He ardently shakes his head, so I grab his hand and raise it to my neck, forcing him to move. 

“You’re crazy, lady,” he mutters breathlessly, straight away pulling his hand back from my hold, looking between me and the bruises on my neck. It’s my first time to hear his voice that is not agitated in any way. 

It's deeper than how I imagined it to be. And I never expected him to cave in that fast.

I grabbed the notepad so that I could write on a new page. "You think I'm crazy? You're the one who strangled me almost to death!" 

It takes him a few moments to read what I wrote and his gaze lands on the bruises littered across my neck. His expression softens then averts his eyes. "I did it out of defense. I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I did not mean to...Miss Ari."

A breath hitched in my throat. I did not expect him to suddenly utter my name. I mean...I’m sure he knows it. Everyone was calling it earlier today. 

I disguise my shock by clearing my throat, which proved to be a mistake since my throat is still not in its best condition. Turning the notepad in my hand, I scribble down one word, “Name?”, then show it to him. 

He looks at the notepad then raises an eyebrow. “You want my name?”

“Y-You…” I begin in a soft voice. Thankfully, it is not as painful to talk. I just have to do it slowly and not make my voice too loud. “You know mine.”

He blinks at me, falling short of words. Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow at him, testing if he would also cave in with this. “Tell...me,” I murmur, “what’s your name?”

“My name…” he utters, “I’m…” he stops, a look of realization dawning on him. Now I’m scrunching my eyebrows at him, leaning a bit forward as I find it peculiar that he would hesitate in saying his name. Is this hesitation, though? It seems like he is genuinely baffled. “I’m,” the man starts again, this time in a clearer and more stable voice, but he pauses right after. 

He looks...lost.

“I…” He swallows down a lump in his throat. “I...don’t know.” 

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?” I sputter without holding myself back. It causes a searing pain in my throat that causes me to wince and rub a hand on my neck to appease the pain in some way. I take my notepad again, huffing under my breath as I write in a rush, “Well, who the fuck are you then?!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him by shaking my head and adding to what I wrote, “And how in the world did you get here?”

“W-What do you expect me to say?” He throws his hand to the side. It’s clear that he’s growing more confused by the second. He squeezes his eyes shut and grunts softly. “I-uh, I know my name. I would know my name. I should know my name,” he grumbles under his breath.

As he continues to talk to himself, I begin to see him in a new light. Tilting my head, I watch him try to recollect his thoughts. But his constant grunting and short groans he emits, holding his head in between his hands, give me a sense of cognizance. Strangely enough, I’m seeing how he might be truly serious. But I still have my doubts.

“Wait, wait,” I murmur and reach out to grab his wrists to force him to look up at me. He meets my gaze and I immediately ask, “Are you serious?” Although my throat is starting to ache again, I still push myself to continue, “You really don’t remember?”

Sighing heavily, he shakes his head. It’s clear in his eyes that he’s wondering the same thing too. 

There is a part of me thinking that what he is claiming is the truth, but there is also a part of me that is screaming ‘Bullshit!’.

I then whisper harshly, “Then what do you remember?”

------------

“Not even where you’re from?”

He shook his head. 

“What about your job?”

“I...I can’t recall anything. I-I can’t piece anything together in my mind.”

“W-What about any siblings that you have?” I ask, my voice growing a bit louder.

“I’m sorry...I...I can’t remember anything at all.”

“There you are.”

The voice of Yejin as she enters the makeshift library makes me jump in place a bit. I look up from one of the donated textbooks from our benefactors in front of me and click my tongue out of annoyance at her. “You don’t always have to come here unannounced,” I mutter. 

“Geez, for someone whose throat would hurt every time she talked, you sure do have a lot to say.” She takes the empty seat across from me and sits on it, propping her elbows on the table to rest her chin on her hands. 

“It does not hurt as much anymore,” I utter nonchalantly even if my throat is begging me to rest it a bit. To take my mind off the lingering pain, I turn my attention back to the textbook. 

“Were you able to let the mystery man talk?”

“Where are the kids?” I straight away divert the topic. 

She scoffs, seeing through my strategy. “They’re outside playing with the others. Now, I’m not going to back down until you give me a proper answer,” she emphasizes. “What did the mystery man say?”

I lick my lips, bringing my head up to face her fully. “Not much,” I replied curtly, giving in a bit.

“Not much?” She repeats incredulously. “And why is that? You and I both know that we want to know more than ‘not much’.” She makes finger quotes in the air. 

I heave out a deep breath and purse my lips. “Unnie,” I start out slowly, looking her straight in the eyes, “I don’t want this out to our colleagues, but he does not remember anything. Not even his own name.”

“No way,” she breathes out before chuckling softly. “You’re pulling my leg.”

I scowl at her and return to skimming through the pages of the textbook. “Suit yourself. Try asking him, then, if you don’t believe me.”

“Is he the reason why you’ve been reading a section of dissociative amnesia?” She juts her chin toward the book on the table. 

“He has amnesia?”

Another new voice rings above the air and I turn around in my chair to see Mrs. Oh standing there at the doorway, a look of bewilderment plastered on her face.

“Oh no,” I whine, closing my eyes tightly and pinching the bridge of my nose. Mrs. Oh is the last person I wanted for them to know about the mystery man’s condition. “Mrs. Oh, I-”

“So you did manage to get him to talk?” She walks up to stand beside me. 

“He claimed that he can’t remember anything,” Yejin chimes in. 

“Unnie!” I hiss before wincing because of the sudden and sharp pain that went straight through my throat.

Mrs. Oh gapes at me then snaps her fingers. “No wonder Hyunwoo reported to me about the man’s condition. He hasn’t eaten anything today. He has this sort of…” she holds a hand before her eyes, shaking it a bit as she continues, “you know...this kind of distant look in his eyes. It all makes sense now. Girls, he clearly is bothered by the awareness that he does not remember anything.” She brings the same hand to her chin, holding it as it’s evident that she’s in deep thought.

I could imagine the gears turning in her head. And frankly enough, I do not like it when she is in that mode. 

“I hate it when it looks like you’re thinking of something,” I muttered, beginning to dread the worst. “Come on. Spill it. What’s the plan you’re forming in your head?”

“It’s simple,” she tells us in a nonchalant manner. “We let him continue to stay with us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

I might start updating this every other day since I'm busy with uni work (especially my thesis) 😭 I hope that would be okay with you ♡ Though, I will still try to have a chapter out every day!

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