The man he held in his arms used his last strength, striving to see his face thoroughly. As if making sure he was not mistaken. And when he fully recognized him, the reflection in his eyes wavers in disbelief. You can read the sadness in his dying gaze. The man's neck gave up on turning to him as his blood ran down to the crummy ground of the narrow street.

Khael, panicking, desperately looks for someone to help them. Unfortunately, there's no other person in sight. Thus, he had no choice but to carry an almost lifeless body only by himself. The limp body was heavier than he'd thought. It was exceedingly exhausting physically and mentally, fearing that someone might have died in his hands. It added to his already overflowing anguish, fueled by guilt and regret.

Khael repudiates that there is only a slim chance for the person he carries to survive. After a mere short suffering and desperate shouting—asking for help—he finally found someone to help them. Eventually, they arrived at the closest hospital.

He had almost passed out with the tension ramming him. There's no need for someone to tell him how he would look. Khael knew how terrified and distressed he was while waiting to know what had become to the person he attempted to kill.

'S-should I run? Maybe while there's still a chance for me to-'

Khael almost puked as he covered his mouth in disgust at his thoughts. 'How did I end up like this? How did I mistake him for-'

He halted his thoughts as tears ran down his cheeks. And now, while staring at his bloodied hands. "Please… don't die… I am begging you," he sobs. "Forgive me... please don't die…."

***

It's been a few minutes since Khael woke up in an unfamiliar room—narrower, smaller, and darker than the former. He had a dream; it was a part of his memory from the past. It was excruciatingly clear as if he was reliving what he had felt and experienced back then.

In the meantime, he still couldn't comprehend what happened to him yesterday. Fortunately, he regained the memories he'd longed for—for the entire time. His name, his family, the life he had. Fair enough—it keeps him in the right frame of mind where he still knows who he was. And it was an important matter, except—if you take away the fact that he was in someone's body.

Khael groaned, perturbed by a lot of thoughts running through his mind. He has to strengthen his resolve despite being utterly bewildered by things that ensued to him. "I don't know if I can do any more of this," he said, rubbing his forehead in incredulity.

Sometime later. Khael heard a knock on the other side of the metallic door. The slow jarring sound of creaking follows through as it opens, revealing someone he wanted (in hope) to see. He remained silent at the moment, his back glued to the wall behind him, thinking of why the old guard came to see him.

"How are you now?" Grant asked. The old guard slid down and took a comfortable seat on the ground in front of him. "I'm sorry if we had to do this. We have something important we need to ask from you. But for now, we are giving you the time to recover first."

"Is that so, but can you tell me at least what is it all about?" asked Khael, hoping for a sincere response from the old guard.

"Do you remember what we had talked about last time?" he asked with a serious tone in his voice. "The fact that you're ignorant on that matter proves that you indeed did lose your memories. You'd be in deep trouble if you said that to others."

"I don't understand. What did I say last time? We're just talking about a portrait, right? A damn portrait!" he said out of frustration. Khael immediately reminded himself to be calm. He had to gather more information from them. "I-I'm sorry for that."

"No, that's fine. In consider to what happened to you. Most of the victims had lost their sanity as soon as they became aware of their empty existence. It made them succumb to a frightening scale of existential crisis. And some of them had tried-" Grant halted, a gloom expression hinted at his face. "Anyway, there's someone who wants to talk to you. I might say that she's definitively someone who can help you. She'll arrive here tomorrow."

"And who was that?" Khael asked curiously.

"Someone I know personally," said Grant. "And oh… before I forgot. Here's some food and make sure to eat this, alright? I'll be heading now," the old guard carefully stood up—with all his efforts despite the struggle caused by his healthy round figure. Grant nodded to him as he made his way out of the room.

Khael let out a long-suffering sigh. He knew he had no other choice but to obey them and go along for now. Besides, he doesn't want to cause a commotion as to what happened before. However, he knows that none of it was his fault. In the meantime, he set aside the thoughts on whom to trust or not.

It's strange how he was downright fine despite what he experienced. As odd as it sounds, he could somehow endure and barely even be bothered by occurrences he encounters. As if there's someone who was influencing him throughout.

'Was it the person who originally owned this body? Was I actually who I thought I was? This has to be a dream, right? Maybe I'll wake up sometime later. Then what? After I killed someone, and before I knew it, my life had ended miserably.'

After all, his life was long gone when the person he tried to kill didn't make it—a friend, a close one to him that he mistakenly killed. Khael surrendered himself and admitted what he had done with no excuses. And he spent the remaining of his life in prison.

Khael then stifled a laugh. He realized nothing wrong when he woke up inside a prison cell. Except, he was in a different body. 'What the hell is happening to me for real?'

'Don't tell me, was it a second chance? But this life wasn't supposed to be mine, right? What if the person who originally owned this body came back? Would I disappear? Then it wasn't bad at all. My suffering should have ended already.'

***

Then another day arrived. Khael spends his time moving and stretching his limbs as a way to cope whenever the occasional pain from his body pesters him. And then, he heard someone arriving on the other side of the metallic door.

He nonchalantly stood from the ground, and the door opened, revealing Grant and a woman with him. Khael was initially uncertain about her age due to her ageless, serene appearance that tells—how much of a beauty she was in her younger days.

With his usual smiling face, Grant and an elegant-looking woman are now standing in front of him. "This is the person I was talking about yesterday, Dessia Adhilla." Grant initiated as he introduced the person with him.

Dessia gave Khael a slight nod and a firm smile. Even with the beauty within, it didn't remove the wrinkles formed on her delicate face.

Khael greets her back with a scant nod. He had assumed that—she might be someone that seemed important. He simply based it on how she dressed and the overflowing elegance she radiated just by standing there.

"Pardon me for this sudden request of mine. I have something essential to discuss with you. I hope it is fine," said the old woman as she gestured a light bow elegantly.

"I-It's fine. I have nothing else to do, anyway." Khael responded.

"Still, thank you for giving me this chance," said Dessia, then shifted her gaze to Grant, who suddenly jolted up from his comfortable sitting spot on the floor.

"Ah, yes, I'll leave the both of you now. Dessia, you can now talk to him privately and have fun, I guessed," said Grant with an awkward grin and immediately made his way out of the room.

Suddenly, an eerie and silent atmosphere bloomed. Khael felt a chill all over his body, but he didn't feel any hostility in the narrow room or towards the old woman.