Chapter 18:Between memory and emptiness

After his encounter with Hikari yesterday, Abe wandered into an abandoned building at the edge of the city.

He didn't know why his feet led him there—only that something hollow inside was pulling him forward.

He didn't know who Takahashi was.

He didn't even know who he was.

But maybe, in a place forgotten by time… he could find a piece of himself.

The building was dark and rotting. Windows cracked like fractured memories, wind whispering through the broken walls like ghosts from a past he couldn't touch. The wooden floor creaked beneath his steps, each one echoing in the void of silence.

Inside, a man sat at an old desk, eyes sunken as he sifted through a pile of papers. A dim, swaying bulb flickered above his head, painting his face in shadow.

Abe broke the silence.

"Who are you?"

The man jolted upright, staring at Abe as if he were seeing a ghost.

"…A-Abe? Is that really you?"

Abe frowned.

"You… know me?"

The man rose slowly, disbelief etched across his face.

"I'm Takahashi," he said, his voice soft—like a name long buried. "We used to know each other… though I suppose you don't remember anymore."

Abe's brow furrowed deeper.

"Was I… someone important?"

Takahashi gave a bitter smile. "You were someone who wanted to understand the world. Someone who tried to fight through all the lies, even when everyone else hid behind their masks. But the world… was far too cruel for someone like you."

Abe clenched his fists.

"I feel empty… like I'm walking through a never-ending hallway of shadows. Every voice sounds distant. Every face… means nothing to me."

Takahashi stepped forward and placed a small wooden box on the desk. On it, carved in delicate script, was a name: "Abe Arataki."

"In here," Takahashi whispered, "is the part of you that's missing. Your memories. Your wounds. The truth you threw away just to survive."

Abe stared at the box. His breath caught in his throat.

Takahashi looked him straight in the eyes.

"Now I offer you a choice."

"If you open it… your memories will return. You'll remember who you really are. But with that truth comes all the agony you once buried—betrayal, loneliness, pain so sharp it almost ended you."

Abe lowered his head. His fingers trembled. As if his body remembered what his mind could not.

"But if you choose not to open it," Takahashi continued, "you will remain like this. Lost. Directionless. Alive, but hollow. Like a doll moving without a soul."

Silence.

Outside, the cracked windows rattled from the wind—moaning like a world that had forgotten how to breathe.

Takahashi stepped closer, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"So choose, Abe. Will you remember… and hurt again? Or forget… and keep breaking without ever knowing why?"

Abe stared at the box.

And in that moment, the world held its breath.

"Choose now," Takahashi said.

"Do you want to be someone pathetic, running from the truth… or become yourself again—even if that self is the embodiment of suffering?"

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