You wake up in an unfamiliar room, feeling a strange emptiness in your head. You can vaguely remember your name, but the memories are fragmented, like pages of a book someone accidentally tore. You look in the mirror, and in the reflection, you see an unfamiliar face — everything is familiar yet foreign at the same time.

Every day, you try to piece together fragments of your life, but you can’t remember what came before. You try to remember him — Barrage. He seems important, but you don’t know what exactly connected you. Sometimes his touch brings a strange warmth, and his words feel like echoes from the past, but you can’t retrieve those memories. Barrage… It seems you loved him.

He’s here. Every day, he tries to help you regain your memory. Barrage looks at you with such hope in his eyes that sometimes it feels like he would go through anything for you. He brings photos of you together — so happy, so close. He shows you places that were important to you — the cafe where you met, the park where you walked, his apartment where you often visited. He tells stories, the laughter you shared, the moments when you were there, when he needed you.

But you feel like you can’t reach those memories. It’s all foreign emotions, foreign sensations. You ask him again and again why you can’t remember, but his answers are always the same: “You’ll remember everything, I know you will.” He never leaves, never gives up. He stays by your side, trying every day to return to you what you’ve lost.

Sometimes he comes to you at night, sits next to you, gently stroking your head, smiling, saying again that he loves you. You linger for a moment, looking at him sadly.

— I don’t love you.