[Collection and Research on Special Amnesia]

This research was conducted under the command of the great Black Dragon Emperor, aiming to collect and classify records of all types of amnesia and study their characteristics. May endless glory be upon the Empire.

From noble mtl dot come

(Excerpt)

Type 3: Amnesia of Naming Loss

Main Symptoms: The subject cannot remember their own name / Others cannot remember the subject’s name

Records of this symptom could be found in ancient manuscripts. During the chaotic times when schools had not yet separated, there are records of a certain wizard who repeatedly researched ways to nullify ‘target designation.’

The powers of some souls are manifested in a way that specifies a target. In the case of ‘ability to weaken enemies,’ the step of designating the enemy must necessarily precede. So how is this designation made?

The ancient wizard believed that the secret of target designation lies in the name.

He thought that if he hid or erased his own name, he could nullify or weaken all ‘target designations’ directed at him, and it is presumed that he succeeded after long experiments.

This is because, while some of his research materials and handwritten texts clearly remained, there was not a single person who remembered that wizard or any materials mentioning him.

A wizard’s research cannot be achieved alone. It requires sufficient facilities and reagents, and traces must necessarily remain.

Therefore, the fact that there are research results but no social traces indicating that research was conducted (transaction records, citations of papers, complaints from assistant wizards, etc.) signifies the activation of magic.

We can infer that the removal of names accompanies such effects. A certain wizard evaluated this as follows… (Excerpt).

⋯⋯⋯⋯.

Chin.

Selvia thought as she closed the pages of the ancient manuscript.

⋯⋯What was the name of my childhood friend again?

——–

Selvia emerged after a week of solitary reading. Dark circles under her eyes.

During that time, she had scoured every book related to amnesia in the Library of the Red Tower, and among them, she had finally found one. A book that could explain this bizarre occurrence.

The erasure of a name.

⋯⋯She couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of magical effect could cause that. In fact, she wondered if it was just the bluster of an ancient sorcerer, like Envers who claimed to have grasped the sky and was jumping around.

However, the symptoms described in the book coincidentally matched too well.

It was conceivable that her childhood friend didn’t remember Selvia. If the hypothesis of the mad sorcerer = childhood friend were true, he must already be involved with two women.

Women who are even stronger than Selvia and, in some sense, more charming. It was infuriating and utterly heartbreaking, but if he could live happily like that… she could accept that he might forget a rustic girl from his hometown.

But the opposite, that Selvia couldn’t remember her childhood friend, was inconceivable.

As time passes, it’s possible to forget details like facial features, but surely one wouldn’t forget a name. She must have written it dozens of times and repeated it hundreds of times.

She had even written love letters.

Selvia opened a small safe hidden under her dormitory bed and checked one by one the letters that had not been sent yet—perhaps never would be.

She thought she had written the names correctly in the recipient field, but each one was circled around with phrases like ‘childhood friend’ or ‘my sun’.

And the oldest letter. The very first love letter she had written in her hometown before coming to the Red Tower…

▒▒▒.

The place where the name should have been was twisted here and there, as if each letter had a consciousness of its own, reconstituted into an incomprehensible shape.

Selvia froze, breaking out in a cold sweat. There seemed to be an unfathomable… underlying truth to the girl’s long-held purity and waiting.

What sent chills down her spine even more was.

“⋯⋯I didn’t know.”

The fact that she hadn’t even realized she had forgotten the name. Like a spring breeze brushing her nose, forgetting had seeped in so naturally.

Selvia was terrified, yet at the same time, she felt a sense of relief.

It was highly likely that her childhood friend hadn’t forgotten her voluntarily, but had been forced to forget due to some incident. Yes. Surely that was the case.

If by some chance her memories were to resurface, she might once again receive that warm gaze.

⋯⋯Then, is there a way to reverse it?

No.

It was beyond her capabilities. Even if she reached the fable, she wouldn’t be able to perform feats like burning a ‘name’. The only hope she could walk towards now was.

“『The Gateway to Promotion』.”

It was once again the ‘wish token’ after all the twists and turns.

If it were Vermilion, the Grand Sorceress of the Red Tower, there might be a way.

In the end, I must complete the task of the Red Tower and become her apprentice. And I would ask her to give me a clue to regain my memories. Though the wish I would make with the token might change, the purpose remains the same.

The flickering candle of my heart, momentarily shaken by confusion, reignites. With a goal in sight, all that remains is to move forward. The teachings of my childhood friend were pushing me onward.

I would capture the exiled sorceress, Krabellin Render. By any means necessary.

She clenched her fists tightly.

“…Alright, I’ll catch Krabellin no matter what it takes…!”

“Selvia, if everything’s done, can we leave now?”

“Wh-what?! Why are you here? This is my room, how did you—?!”

“I saw the window was open. The Red Tower really has a sense of openness.”

The mad sorceress, who had intruded without the owner’s permission, pointed at the wide-open window with her finger. A single rope hanging down suggested she had descended from above.

“Why, why did you come into someone else’s room without permission?!”

“You looked serious, and when I knocked, you didn’t answer. You even skipped a meal, so I was worried.”

My childhood friend (presumably) was worried about me. Just like old times. It made me happy. A reflexive rush of dopamine surged through me.

No.

Selvia sensed her angry expression melting away and tried to slap her cheeks to regain her composure.

It’s still not certain. Even if I’m 99% sure, there’s still that 1% chance she might not be my childhood friend. Plus, she has two girlfriends, used some strange illusion magic on our first meeting, and tormented me with tentacles. I can’t figure her out…

As Selvia forced herself to maintain her anger gauge while repeating that long list in her mind, the mad sorceress, now wearing an apron, spoke.

“The food here in the dining hall isn’t great, so I thought I’d whip up something light… How about I make you some pasta?”

“…”

Memories echoed from the past.

—I’m sorry, Selvia. This is all I can do for you. Kids should eat well, you know. Later… when I earn a lot of money, I promise I’ll cook you something delicious.

That was it.

Crusts of bread and rotten vegetables. After cutting away the inedible parts, there was hardly anything left, yet he made meals for the village children.

Selvia felt a sting at the tip of her nose and looked up. Then, with a slightly choked voice, she replied.

“…I’d like to eat.”

“Great. I’ll get started, so come to the dining hall!”

The mad sorceress pretended not to notice Selvia’s dampness. Each small act of consideration pierced her heart painfully. Scenes from the past kept overlapping in her mind.

Selvia wiped her eyes.

No, Selvia. Don’t be greedy. You thought just being alive was enough. Even if she has started a family, you promised to congratulate her.

—

So you should be happy.

The truth is.

He, who has regained his memories, desperately wishes to return to himself…

——–

Selvia and I finished preparing for the adventure—

“…Why don’t you lighten your load a bit? Your bag is about three times the size of yours right now.”

“It’s always better to prepare more…”

“Open the bag. No, why is it stuffed so full of books?!”

“I need them for research…”

After having two bags worth of items confiscated by Selvia, we completed our preparations.

I don’t know where our target, whatever his name is, might be, but he must be outside the enemy tower. To find him, we have to go out.

But do we really think we can just head out blindly, not knowing where he might be on the continent? If we’re not careful, it could turn into a journey not just for a short while, but for a lifetime. I asked Selvia.

“How do you plan to find him?”

“The Red Mage Tower is consistently receiving reports about the Rift Sorcerer. The information gathered from all over the continent is compiled at the purification site. We just need to wait patiently here.”

“Got it.”

Selvia busily filled out information export request forms and the like, and after 30 minutes, she returned with a document in hand.

It was a record of eyewitness testimonies regarding our target.

She analyzed it while tapping her fingers on the file.

“The most recent report says he’s working as a mercenary near the eastern front of the Empire… but this seems to have a very low reliability. It’s probably a lie.”

“Why?”

“Because it contradicts the previous eyewitness testimony. Krabellin Render participated in the Hero Selection Tournament in the Holy City, and this information has been cross-verified countless times, so it’s certain. Plus, the distance between the two locations is absurdly far.”

I applauded Selvia’s sharpness.

“Ah… that’s right. That was a keen analysis. Unless our target suddenly got caught up in a large-scale random coordinate teleportation by the goddess.”

“Pardon?”

“It seems it hasn’t been made public yet. You know there was a commotion in the Holy City, right? That’s one of them. All the hero candidates were scattered across the world.”

“…I’ll arrange for a carriage to the eastern front.”

Selvia had a lot to say but wore an expression that suggested she wouldn’t. If I asked her what happened, she looked fearful that everything she should and shouldn’t know would come pouring out.

As we rode in the carriage, set down our bags, and surrendered ourselves to the clattering rhythm, I thought in a corner of my mind.

One thought was about Selvia.

“…Hmm.”

She had already fallen asleep a few minutes after getting on the carriage.

I saw her rummaging through books about amnesia in the library. I kept feeling like I wanted to take care of something for her. I even covered her with a blanket when she had dozed off while reading a book in the early morning.

Then I saw that ancient document as well. Something about a name. At this point, I couldn’t possibly miss it. There were too many clues.

1) Selvier and I are from the same village, Sangjebi. Our ages are also roughly similar.

2) I had discovered a pure white path that felt similar to the ‘childhood friend’ Selvier described, from within myself.

3) The gaps in memory interlock. It’s more natural to think that my memories were hidden, rendering Selvier unable to recognize me, rather than coincidentally crossing paths with someone whose memory is defective.

Based on the following grounds:

Even if it hasn’t been officially announced, I must be Selvier’s ‘childhood friend.’ The world is indeed small. I had a childhood friend girl too.

After that, I pondered quite a bit. Am I the same person before and after the amnesia? Just because my past self cared for Selvier, does that mean I have a reason to care for her now?

The conclusion is ‘no.’

I chose the middle ground between black and white. From that point on, my past self and my current self are practically separate entities. I have no intention of carrying over the emotional baton from the past.

However, I do not wish for Selvier’s long wait to become meaningless.

She is someone who works hard. Effort should be rewarded. If I regain my memories later… perhaps I could give her a part of myself. I wonder what it would be like to return the childhood friend in that way.

And there’s no need to inherit it either. I hold a fondness for Selvier, even if it’s not love.

Clatter.

The carriage shook violently. I took a quick glance at Selvier; she stirred slightly but was still on her journey in dreamland.

“Sleep well…”

Is she the type that sleeps deeply?

And next, about the name.

I don’t know my own name, and I can hardly remember others’ names either.

Until now, I thought it was a side effect of harboring ‘that’ in my mind, but it might actually be a bit different. A different hypothesis has emerged. What if names hold more significant power than I think?

Could this be the magical breakwater that my pre-amnesiac self prepared? There must have been a reason for it back then.

If that’s the case, until I destroy ‘that,’ can I not be called by a name…?

My mouth felt a bit bitter.

——–

Some time passed.

We arrived in the city of Polmaker near the Eastern Front.

There was nothing unusual on the way. Because I, the inheritor of fire magic, was there.

I tossed mini fire sparks into the goblins’ ear holes, and every problem was neatly resolved. It was so convenient and pleasant. Of course, it doesn’t compare to the illusion magic that makes ‘Bongolle pasta-flavored jerky’ possible…

Even when I return to my tower, I might occasionally miss this touch.

I poked Selbier, who was curled up and sleeping on the floor of the carriage.

“Selbier, Selbier?”

“Mmnya…”

“Mr. Selbier, Miss Selbier, bedwetter, fireball launcher.”

“…Uhh…”

She’s completely out. She looks incredibly defenseless. Even if I shake her shoulders, she doesn’t wake up; I feel like I could just wrap her up and take her home without her noticing.

This must mean she trusts me—her childhood friend—100%. What on earth was I doing in the past…?

By the way, if she doesn’t wake up, I’ll have to carry double the load.

“…Hey.”

Seeing her sleep so soundly makes my heart soften for no reason. Well, it should be fine as long as I can move her to the inn. If she feels too heavy on the way, I can just wake her up.

I hoisted Selbier onto my back and grabbed my backpack with both hands.

Regret about not exercising a bit crossed my mind, but then I realized she had more volume than I expected. This should be manageable.

The Eastern Front is where Princess Elaine has her stake, a place embroiled in an endless war against the endlessly multiplying demon race.

In other words, the demand for violence never runs dry. The Eastern Front is still short on personnel.

Where do they replenish that personnel? They draw from this place, Polmaker.

So, I had heard that the mercenary hiring market is at an all-time high within the Empire. Seeing it with my own eyes, I could understand what that meant. The place is crawling with mercenaries.

Compared to other cities, there are about five times as many shops dealing in miscellaneous goods or weapons, and the rate of weapon ownership among passersby was also quite alarming.

All we need to do here is find the location of our target, something called “K,” and then our mission will be complete.

This mission doesn’t require weighing moral values. K’s charges include the murder of a wizard and the theft of research materials; it’s said he turned one of the enemy tower’s research buildings into a sea of blood and then fled.

If he’s a criminal, there’s no reason to hesitate with my hands.

First, I’ll book a room at an inn and slowly gather information. I casually approached a passerby.

“Excuse me, do you know where there’s an inn around here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“…?”

I blankly stared at the back of the passerby’s head after the indifferent reply.

Yeah, maybe they had a bad day today. I looked for someone else who seemed friendly and tried again.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a decent inn to stay in. Where’s the best quality inn in this city?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I don’t want to tell you.”

What is this?

I wondered if I was emitting a hate-ooze through some unconscious illusion magic, given the chilly indifference of the citizens. But upon checking, that wasn’t the case either.

From noble mtl dot come

It wasn’t even hate to begin with. The citizens purely ignored me, devoid of any emotion. As if it was none of their business.

It wasn’t that I was cursed. Even when I checked my face in a nearby puddle, I looked decent enough. So then, why…?

And amidst this, I felt a strange pull. It felt like I was discovering a lost part of my body. Perhaps, one of the fragments of the Soul Bond was in this city.

The puzzle pieces fell into place.

The indifference of the city’s pedestrians, and the existence of the fragment. Among the modules in my head, there was someone capable of pulling this off.

I finally realized the culprit and trembled.

“Is it you, ‘Whatever TV Module’…?!”

What on earth have you been doing for the people of the city to be so collectively indifferent!

I felt the karma flowing down my spine…!