The Fragile Bloom of Memory
Clarity and Jake parted ways, each moving toward their own uncertain destiny.
Jake entered the building to find his clothes and belongings strewn across the threshold of his room. Erik was waiting, lounged on the sofa opposite the entrance. He offered a sly, mocking smile. "I took the liberty of packing your things. I did it all for you."
Jake stood motionless, his gaze fixed on Erik with a chilling, detached coldness—eyes that seemed devoid of any warmth or color.
(You know, when you realize that you are destined for suffering, you try to project an aura of total indifference... you pretend to be hollow... but inside, you are burning.)
Erik rose from the sofa, casually twirling a small, blue-handled knife. "May I keep this?"
"You know that’s important to me."
"That’s exactly why I like it!"
"Keep it then," Jake replied, his voice flat. "It will end up killing you of its own accord."
"You’re frightening me!" Erik laughed, tossing the blade back to Jake, who caught it and slipped it into his bag.
Erik stepped closer. "I’ll miss you. Now, allow me to give you your first order from me: go clean the bathroom." He erupted into laughter.
Jake remained silent, gathered his things from the floor, and turned to leave. Erik called after him, "I was joking! What’s with that gloomy face?"
Jake headed to the warehouse, placing his belongings on a nearby shelf. He pulled out the small blue knife, staring at it with intense focus. It had been a gift from the Boss.
Seeing it now is… strangely disturbing.
He tucked it deep under his clothes, hidden away. He swept his gaze across the room, taking in the squalor—the filth left behind by that scoundrel, Apollo: cigarette butts littering every corner, the suffocating stench of decay.
Words echoed in his mind.
Nothing. Just don’t think about anything, Jake. Thinking will lead you to emotions you cannot afford. You aren't being wronged! The Boss hasn't abandoned you; you’re just being punished. You are standing by Clarity because you trust him, and he will return soon. You aren't the only one sacrificing here…
Jake struggled to convince himself. He had always handled his problems alone, and he had always been enough. But this feeling... this suffocating sense of loneliness and rejection... it was unbearable.
Clarity sat on the side of the road, clutching his stomach with both hands.
"I should have told Jake I was hungry and in pain," he whispered. "He didn’t even stop to think if I had a penny to my name. He pushed me out of my home, and... well, I’m the fool who told him we were staying with my grandmother—a woman I don't even know!"
He sighed in frustration. "I should have told him the truth. Come to think of it, maybe my mother really is with some relatives I’ve never heard of. What do I even know?"
Clarity shouted into the void, "I am the biggest fool on the face of this earth!"
A young man walking by stopped, startled by the outburst. He likely took the man sitting in the dirt—despite the wide sidewalk right next to him—for a madman. The stranger shook his head and muttered, "I couldn't agree more."
Clarity stared back, bewildered. "Agreed on what? And move along! Do you see a show here? Keep walking, friend!"
The young man continued on his way, looking back in utter confusion. Clarity spent the night on a chair he found outside a neighboring shop.
He woke the next morning to the shopkeeper's shouting, offered a hurried apology, and left. He looked utterly drained. His long, curly hair was a mess—bizarre, even.
I haven't bathed in ages, Clarity whispered to himself, trying to tame his tangled locks. There are probably entire alien civilizations living up here.
He was startled by a young man who stopped in front of him, gasping for breath. The boy looked up, a radiant, wide smile breaking across his face. He was overjoyed. He wore a peculiar, full-body robe and striking, vibrant shoes.
"A... are you Curly?" the boy asked, panting.
Clarity blinked, trying to process the name. "You mean... Clarity?"
"No... you’re definitely Curly." The boy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and thrust it toward Clarity.
It looked like a child’s scribbles—a rough drawing of a creature with curly hair, though the rest defied any logical description. Clarity stared, dumbfounded. "What is this?"
The boy lowered the paper. "Just admit you’re Curly. I’ve been searching for you since yesterday like a needle in a haystack. But it has to be you—the likeness is undeniable!"
"You... you’re really insulting me now. I told you, my name is Clarity."
"Do you know Grandmother Mary?"
"Yes, I do."
The boy cheered, "Then you are Curly! I mean, Clarity, as you said!" He muttered a quick, "Thank God."
Then, his expression turned serious. "Mr. Curly... Grandmother Mary from the Eve Therapeutic Institution wants to see you. I’m Cypher. It’s my code name. My mission is to escort you to the facility. Will you come with me?"
Clarity paused for a moment. Grandmother Mary and the Eve Institution! Well, she certainly went there... He arched an eyebrow and whispered, "Let’s go."
Jake was asleep on a couch in the corner of the warehouse, tossing and turning. The nightmare that had haunted him for so long returned. He was trapped inside a narrow, lightless hole, his rapid breathing echoing in his ears as he screamed for help in vain. A thick, red fog filled the space... the suffocating sensation...
Jake bolted upright, gasping for air. What is the meaning of this nightmare? Why does it keep getting worse?
Just then, Apollo strolled into the warehouse, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. He had just returned from the hospital, some bandages already removed from his hand and head.
"Look at how the tables have turned!" Apollo crowed, approaching Jake. "I heard I’ve become the Boss. It’s wonderful... simply unbelievable."
"Congratulations," Jake replied coldly. "You’ve achieved your goal."
"Well, Jake... not quite. There’s still a little bit left to do."
"Your acting was truly superb, Apollo. Even the Boss fell into your trap."
"Did you like it? I have so much more to show you. You’ll see things even more magnificent than this."
Erik happened to pass by and gave Apollo a sharp nudge. "A performance, was it?"
Apollo tensed, scrambling to recover. "I was just playing along! I wasn't acting at all! Can’t you see the burns on my body?!"
Erik turned to Jake, handing him a small bag. "You might have left this by the door yesterday."
Then he looked at Apollo, raising an eyebrow. "I have no interest in your internal power struggles. Since you’ve returned and seem perfectly fine—it looks like the burns have even vanished—you can take charge here. I’m heading to my own district; I have plenty of work to do."
Erik turned to Jake with a final look. "Good luck, my friend."
He left, fully aware that total chaos was about to shake the very foundations of the gang. But it was the Boss’s decision, after all—and who had the right to object?
Clarity and the boy entered the institution building. Clarity was mesmerized; it felt like a luxury hotel, certainly nothing like a hospital. People were everywhere, patients looking genuinely happy despite their ailments. Clarity found himself smiling in response.
Cypher gestured for him to enter a room on the second floor. The building spanned nearly three stories.
Clarity stepped inside the spacious room. It was furnished with beds in every corner, wardrobes, and even a refrigerator stocked with food—every corner felt like a private, miniature suite. His eyes wandered until they landed on Grandmother Mary.
She saw him, and her face lit up in a wide smile. "He’s here!"
Clarity sat on a chair beside her. "What is it? You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, you little... ungrateful wretch. Ah, let's change that title; it’s become worn out. Let's think of something else... 'You little rascal,' perhaps?"
Cypher interjected, "Grandmother, I’ve been searching for him since yesterday, and the moment I find him, you start hurling insults! He’s precious, Grandmother. I worked very hard to bring him here."
"Shut up, you! Aren't you getting paid for it?"
Clarity chuckled. "It seems you’re settling in quite well here."
"Yes, everyone here is wonderful—the neighbors, and the director, Eve. She is truly a queen, so kind-hearted. And there's that fool, Cypher, who carries out all my requests. So, I wanted to thank you... Clarity."
It was the first time she had called him by his name in a very long time. Clarity sat there, a soft smile lingering on his face as he listened to her long, rambling stories.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Eve.
Her chestnut hair flowed down to her elbows, and her skin was a fair, olive-tinted tone. She possessed wide, emerald-green eyes. Everyone in the room greeted her with genuine love.
Yet, even after entering the facility and knowing she was there, Clarity prayed he would never have to meet her again.
She offered a faint, thin smile when she saw him. "Curly is here!"
"So you’re the one who started spreading that name about me."
"Isn't it Curly? Or did I just remember your hair?"
"It’s Clarity!"
"Oh, Clarity... See? Cypher was able to find you through my artistic talent. The drawing was truly a masterpiece."
Clarity muttered in annoyance, "I thought it was a child's scribble."
"The eye only perceives what matches its own level, as you know. I can forgive your ignorance."
Clarity chose silence. She was sharp-tongued and argumentative—exactly the kind of person he couldn't stand. A staff member approached and asked Eve to return to her office for an urgent matter.
As she left, Clarity sighed in relief. He had a terrible impression of the young lady. Still, perhaps this institution was the first charitable work in this city that actually deserved praise.
Half an hour later, the nurse asked the grandmother to get some rest, as it was her scheduled nap time. Clarity helped her lie down, and she took his hand.
"Listen to me before you go," she whispered. "I tried very hard last night to remember my conversations with your mother, Lydia. I remembered a dialogue from about two months ago. It was after you had stormed out of the house, fighting with your mother. I came out of my house and started hurling insults—I was cursing you, of course. But she asked me to stop, saying that you weren't at fault and that she was the reason for it all. She said she would fix her problem. I didn't understand what she meant. When I asked her, she avoided answering and never spoke of it in front of me again. I think you should look into that. Maybe your mother is facing a problem you know nothing about."
"She said she was the cause? Wasn't I the one causing her misery? At least, that's what I thought! Why does my mother keep blaming herself for everything!"
Clarity let out a frustrated groan. He stood up, a tight, suffocating knot of anxiety twisting in his chest, as if the air had suddenly vanished. Where was his mother? The thought that she wasn't well was agonizing.
As soon as he stepped out of the room, Eve appeared right in front of him.
She offered a serious smile. "Perhaps it's a coincidence... or some kind of miracle. But I’ve been looking for you for a while now... and here you are, standing before me. You’ve walked straight into my kingdom. I have something here—somewhere in this building... you need to see it."
What on earth is she talking about now?
Clarity took a deep breath, trying to push away the dark thoughts crowding his mind.
"Clarity, I’m not joking for you to just ignore me. This is serious. Come with me and I’ll show you what I mean."
Clarity remained silent and followed her quietly.
They headed toward a room on the third floor. Clarity asked, "What is it I’m supposed to see?"
"Something that concerns you, certainly. I was looking for you before, as I told you, but I didn't know your name or address. I only found out a short while ago, and as you know, I found you by chance on the street that day. It must be fate, though I didn't even know your name at the time."
Clarity raised an eyebrow in confusion. Eve knocked softly on the door and heard a voice from within: "Come in."
They stepped into the room.
Clarity’s eyes widened in shock. He gasped, "Mother!"
His mother raised her head. She was pale, her eyes sunken and devoid of light, her skin a sallow, sickly yellow. Streaks of gray riddled her hair.
She stared for a few seconds, then clutched her head in agony and suddenly screamed, "Get out of here! ...Get out... I don't want to see him! Get him out!"
Clarity’s pulse raced, and his body began to tremble. Eve grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room as he stared back, paralyzed by fear and confusion. "That’s my mother! But... but why is she... here!"
"She is here for treatment," Eve said. "She came to me asking for help. Just calm down."
"What treatment?" Clarity’s voice rose. "Why did she scream when she saw me!"
"Calm down, Clarity... listen. Have you ever noticed contradictions in your mother's behavior? Like sudden rage, then calm? Difficulty with vision or hearing? Losing memories sometimes? That is because of her illness."
"What illness?" Tears welled in Clarity's eyes. "Was my mother ill! What kind of illness is this? And I... I didn't even notice... I was always out of the house... I just... I thought she was angry at me the whole time..."
Clarity collapsed, sliding down against the wall.
"It’s a tumor in the frontal lobe of the brain. It damaged the part responsible for her impulses, which is why she sometimes lacks the ability to control them."
Clarity squeezed his eyes shut as the tears poured down his face.
Isn't that just too cruel?