Felix hadn’t received a response right away after making his request. In that self-contained world that is the psychiatric hospital, things happen slowly, calmly. You yourself become part of the clockwork, ticking at a sluggish pace, getting used to that stillness until it starts to set the rhythm of your own life, like a metronome.

He’s starting to get used to the room. What he loves most of all is the large window that overlooks the garden. Huge, covered with light curtains that flutter when left slightly open, it lets in a clear, brilliant light for twelve hours a day. After months spent under fluorescent lights, being able to sit in the sun and feel its warmth on his skin is therapeutic. Just like leaning out and seeing the trees, the green of the leaves, the blades of grass and the flowers growing in patches of soil bordered by decorative stones. And then there are the insects: buzzing, crawling, skittering through the timid yet vibrant nature of the courtyard nestled between the four main buildings.

The other patients have stories similar to his, for the most part. Many of them are coming off long periods of confinement, even though during the day everyone seems to forget it. When the sun shines, joy fills each one of them — but then night falls, and the ward’s hallways echo with the screams of those haunted by nightmares.

Felix has gotten used to it. He can sleep peacefully even when there’s noise. He’s sure the Valium helps, but honestly, he’s gotten used to that too. And now, finally, he knows something. No matter how small or insignificant it might seem, knowing what he’s being given makes him feel more at ease. Knowing the people caring for him want to help, not harm him, makes this new kind of imprisonment feel different.

The marks on his arms are beginning to fade. The nurse said he made them himself, with his nails, during a nighttime episode. He knows he did other things too, judging by the marks scattered across his skin, but the nurse told him there’s a reason his mind chose to block out those memories — and Felix realized that maybe remembering everything isn’t such a good idea.

Still, he needs to know.

The nurse had spoken with the doctor. The doctor had reviewed his case. Felix had been hospitalized for a while now, and he no longer had wounds that needed disinfecting or episodes that needed sedating. He seemed stable — stable enough that it wouldn’t be surprising if he were soon discharged. If there had to be a forced reintegration of the memories he’d lost, then it was definitely better for it to happen in the clinic, where he could be monitored and treated if necessary. Yes. The doctor had seemed open to the idea. It would be arranged.

Despite the announcement, though, nothing happened for days. Felix had his bowl of sticky rice soup for breakfast and some salty crackers as a snack. He read books — currently, The Song of Achilles — and tried to heal that part of himself he once thought was gone forever: the calm part, the part that wasn’t afraid, the part that could let its guard down and didn’t always expect the worst.

He turned a page in the novel. A soft knock came at the door, which was strange — it was always left open. He looked up, and his eyes met Hyunjin’s figure. He’d fantasized about this moment so many times, he’d be lying if he claimed otherwise — he’d thought it would feel good to see him again. He had hoped for it, asked over and over to know how he was, if he was safe.

And yet, seeing him now stirred something deep and terrifying inside. It felt like being back in the cage. The red light of the camera watching him, the abuse, the drugged food, the chicken bone scraped against the floor until it was sharp enough to kill. Ivan. Ivan’s blood. The escape. The return to the cell. The hanging.

All of it, in a second. A single second.

Felix realized he could never truly be happy as long as Hyunjin was part of his life. Whatever fascination he’d felt for him while imprisoned was gone. As if Hyunjin had been nothing more than a side effect of his condition — a sickness that this place had managed to cure. His presence now only made Felix uncomfortable.

“Hey,” says Hyunjin.
“Hey,” Felix replies. He closes the book and sets it on the small table. He gets up from the floor — the hospital robe he’s wearing is light and breathable, but a bit too loose. Hyunjin has cut his hair short, almost shaved. It’s strange seeing him like this — almost unsettling. He looks younger than before, so much so that Felix wonders if they’re the same age, or if Hyunjin might actually be younger. He’s wearing a black V-neck shirt, dark pants, and a belt with a round buckle.

“You look good.”
“Psych ward life suits me,” Felix says sarcastically. “You look different.”
Hyunjin doesn’t reply to that. They just look at each other in silence for a while. Then Hyunjin speaks again.
“It was your doctor who called me here,” he says. “Without a formal request, no one’s allowed into the psych ward. Not even visitors.”
“Ah,” Felix murmurs. “Yeah. I think I know why you’re here.”
Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “They mentioned forced memory recovery.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“The doctor seems to think it is,” Felix replies, almost mocking, as he glances out the window. “I never thought I’d see sunlight again, or find joy in being alive — in the simplicity of a life that doesn’t feel terrifying or sickening. If I’d known that acting insane would’ve brought me here, I would’ve made your lives a living hell down there.”
Hyunjin lets out a short, amused breath. “You think you didn’t? You tried to smash your head against the iron bars, remember? And you also killed your jailer.”
Felix stays quiet for a moment.

When he speaks again, his tone is serious, detached.
“When I sharpened that bone, I had no idea how things would play out. I didn’t think anyone else was in that prison — just you. I thought you’d locked me in your basement and were some kind of psychopath, or something like that. I sharpened that bone because I was waiting for the right moment to kill you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. He allows himself a moment of shock before regaining — at least outwardly — his composure.
“I think that’s understandable,” he says. “Given the state you were in…”

“Oh! He’s here!” The nurse’s voice rings out, echoing down the hallway. Felix is grateful that she’s arrived. Being alone with Hyunjin is bringing too many things to the surface that he thought were buried, gone. Smiling, the woman greets Hyunjin formally before turning her gaze to Felix. A single glance is enough for her to sense that something is wrong. She grows serious and addresses Hyunjin again.
“Mr. Hwang, please follow me. We’ll leave the patient alone until the doctor arrives,” she tells him.
Hyunjin nods. His eyes remain fixed on Felix.

There was a time when Felix really believed he felt something for that man. The mere thought disgusts him. He doesn’t think he hates Hyunjin, but he doesn’t think he owes him any gratitude, or anything like that either. He wishes he would never have to see him again. And yet, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about him often. What he feels is a jumbled mess — Hyunjin is the personification of a trauma with which, willingly or not, he will have to live for the rest of his life, he already knows that.

The nurse returns after about ten minutes.
“Come with me, let’s go,” she says to Felix. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have come here, and…”
“It’s fine. Everything’s okay.”
“You look pale.”
“I’m always pale.”
The nurse presses her lips into a thin line of pure resignation. “If it becomes too much, you can tell me. In fact, you’ll have to tell me. When you think you need a break, let me know, and we’ll stop everything. You’ve made great progress since you’ve been here, it would be a shame to waste it. Understood?”
Felix nods.

They walk down the hallway, into Dr. Choi’s small office. There are four chairs separated by a desk. The doctor and the nurse sit side by side, while Felix and Hyunjin take the other two chairs, which face each other. For some reason, Felix now can’t look Hyunjin in the eye. He lowers his gaze, focusing on the gray grout between the tiles. It’s the doctor who speaks.

“The patient has requested the forced reintegration of his memories, as he has no means of retrieving them on his own. Since this is a delicate procedure, it will be addressed in multiple sessions — however many are necessary. If I observe signs of deep and unbearable discomfort in the patient, I will immediately stop the sessions. Additionally, for the patient’s physical and psychological health, the sessions will not be scheduled at fixed intervals but will vary depending on how the patient reacts to the reintroduction of the memories. Is everything clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Choi,” Hyunjin replies.

“Very well. Felix, how are you feeling? Are you still sure you’re ready to hear what will be said?”

Felix looks up. “Yes. I think I can’t really start over without knowing. And since you’re treating me… I think it’s worth treating everything that can be treated while I’m here.”

The doctor nods. “Yes. You’re right. It’s definitely the best thing.”

Hyunjin seems uncomfortable. He doesn’t show it openly, but Felix has learned to read him. He’s studied him for so long, learning every small shift in his face, that he can understand him even now, when everyone in the room seems trapped in an apparent sense of calm. Hyunjin would probably prefer to be anywhere else. Probably, anywhere but here.

“What should I do?” he asks, turning his gaze directly to the doctor.

Felix speaks before anyone else can.

“Tell me everything. Every detail. From the beginning.”

Hyunjin hesitates.

Felix thinks he wants to back out. He would go crazy if he really did. If even now he denied him the truth, he would jump at his throat, he’s sure of it. Maybe Hyunjin reads his thoughts simply by looking into his eyes. He squints and sighs.

“Fine. I guess there’s really no reason not to tell you, anyway.”

Felix feels his heart begin to race in his chest. He grabs the armrests of the chair, the plastic and foam yielding quickly under his fingers. He wants to know, he’s sure he wants to know. That doesn’t mean he isn’t terrified of discovering what’s behind the gaps in his mind. He’s absolutely fucking terrified.

“We should start from the first time we met, then. I bet you don’t remember, right? Yet back then, you weren’t taking anything. It must be a memory that just slipped away,” Hyunjin pauses, crosses his legs, and narrows his eyes. “It happened in the winter of last year. The first snow was falling in Seoul, and you had forgotten your umbrella at home…”

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