Arc 9 : Fragments

Lee Know sat on the floor, the voice still echoing faintly in his mind. He didn’t sleep that night. The exhaustion gnawed at his body, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. Every time he closed his eyes, the words returned—"You and I are one. We are one." By the time the first rays of morning light seeped through the curtains, he gave up trying. His body moved on autopilot, driven by a routine he couldn’t fully recall. He grabbed a jacket and stepped out into the crisp morning air. The fog outside had lifted slightly, revealing faint outlines of the city. His feet carried him to a familiar corner café. The bells above the door jingled softly as he entered. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. Without thinking, he approached the counter. “Good morning,” the barista greeted him cheerily. “Morning,” Lee Know mumbled, glancing at the menu, though he didn’t need to. The words slipped out of his mouth as if rehearsed. “Two Americanos. Two slices of cheesecake.” The barista nodded and punched in the order. He paid without a second thought and found a quiet table by the window. It wasn’t until the tray arrived—two steaming cups of coffee and two plates of cheesecake—that it hit him. His chest tightened as he stared at the second coffee cup and slice of cake. The question rang loud in his head: Why did I order two? He looked around the café. It was quiet, with only a few other patrons scattered at tables. No one was sitting with him. No one had come with him. He was alone. Yet the second cup sat across from him, the steam curling upward like a ghost. His hands trembled as he picked up his own cup, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch the other. The ache in his chest returned, sharper this time, as if a piece of him were missing. “Why…” he whispered to himself, his voice breaking. “Why two?” His mind scrambled for an answer, but none came. Only the faint echo of the voice from the night before lingered in his thoughts: "We are one." --- Lee Know stared at the cheesecake in front of him, but no matter how many times he took a bite, something was off. It didn’t taste right—there was a distinct lack of something. It was as though the flavor was incomplete, as if it were missing an ingredient that he couldn’t quite name. He tried to push the feeling aside and took a sip of his coffee. The rich bitterness of the Americano should have calmed him, but instead, it felt hollow, like something was missing from that too. His fingers tapped against the table in frustration. He didn’t understand why he felt this way. Why wasn’t he enjoying something as simple as cheesecake and coffee? With a sigh, Lee Know stood up and left the café, abandoning the uneaten second slice of cheesecake on the table. It felt pointless to take it with him. The weight of the situation pressed against him, heavier with every step. His legs moved on their own, carrying him somewhere, though he didn’t consciously decide where. Without thinking, he found himself in front of a studio—a place he recognized but couldn’t remember the significance of. It was an unassuming building with the faint hum of activity inside. Lee Know hesitated at the entrance, unsure of why his body had led him here. He stepped inside, and as soon as he did, he was greeted by unfamiliar faces. The people working inside didn’t seem to recognize him. He walked around, trying to place any of the people, but they all felt foreign to him. No one’s face sparked any memory. And yet, as he wandered through the rooms, something inside him stirred. His feet moved as if they knew exactly where to go, leading him down hallways and past equipment. Every turn, every step, felt strangely familiar. His body seemed to be remembering the layout of the studio, like it had been there countless times before. The feeling was almost overwhelming. He knew where to find the light switches, where the editing desks were, how to navigate around the equipment without looking. But why? Why did his body remember this place when his mind couldn’t? A sense of belonging washed over him, but it only deepened the confusion. It was like this studio had been a part of his life, but how? And why couldn’t he remember? Hours later, Lee Know returned to his apartment, exhausted but no closer to understanding. He collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as his mind replayed the flashes of memories he couldn’t grasp. His body remembered something—someone—but his mind refused to connect the dots. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. There were names there, but none that sparked recognition. His thumb hovered over the screen before he locked it and tossed the phone aside. His breathing slowed, and his mind began to drift. As sleep crept in, his mind echoed with the faint voice he couldn’t place: “You and I are one.” --- Lee Know returned to the apartment, his body heavy with exhaustion. The day had been a blur of questions and confusion, and he didn’t have the energy to fight it any longer. He needed rest—something to calm his racing thoughts. He barely made it to the couch before he collapsed, sinking into the cushions with a deep sigh. His body screamed for sleep, and despite the storm in his mind, his eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. As sleep finally began to claim him, a familiar warmth spread through his body. But just as he was about to drift into unconsciousness, something caught him off guard—a sound, faint but undeniable. “Yoo, Lee Know’s lamb is so delicious. Thanks, Lee Know.” The voice echoed in his mind, warm and full of laughter. Lee Know’s eyes snapped open, his breath hitching in his chest. The words were so clear, yet his mind couldn’t place them. They weren’t familiar to him, but they felt… so right. The voices continued, one after another, overlapping in a symphony of warmth and camaraderie. “Lee Know Hyung, this is amazing.” “Can’t believe you made this.” “You’re the best, Irino!” And then, a burst of laughter, familiar and comforting. Lee Know sat up, his heart racing. He tried to recall their faces, but all he could see were blurred outlines. The laughter continued, but their faces remained shrouded in mystery. There were eight of them, including him. He could hear the voices, clear as day, but their faces remained indistinguishable, fading just before he could make them out. He knew these voices, though, knew them as if they were part of his life—but how? Why couldn’t he remember? Why was it only their laughter and voices that remained, and not their faces? A sinking feeling washed over him, the sense of something slipping through his fingers. His breath hitched again, and he pressed his hand to his chest, trying to steady his racing heart. The warmth of the memory was comforting, but the unanswered questions clawed at him, filling him with a deep, unshakeable longing. “Who… who were we?” Lee Know whispered to the empty room. But the voices didn’t answer. They only echoed, fading like a dream he couldn’t hold onto. --- Lee Know’s mind was clouded with the fog of exhaustion. His body, despite the aching fatigue, refused to stay still. He lay on the couch, eyes closed, trying to fight the overwhelming urge to sleep, but it was futile. The weight of the day, the confusion, the aching sense of something missing—it all pulled him deeper into the warmth of slumber. But just as sleep’s embrace began to take him, the voice returned. "Brownie, brownie, brownie... Hyung, do you want a brownie?" The words hit him like a wave, flooding his mind with fragments of a memory. His own voice, answering softly: "Yes." It was warm, comforting, like something so simple yet so deeply familiar. He could almost taste the sweetness of the brownie, feel the warmth of the moment—but no faces, no details, just the voices. Lee Know's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding. Why was this happening? Why, every time sleep was near, did his mind flood him with these scattered, fleeting memories that he couldn’t hold on to? He pressed his hands to his face, feeling the exhaustion in his bones, the confusion swelling within him. He wanted to remember. He wanted to know why the voices felt so familiar, why that moment with the brownies felt like it belonged to him—but the pieces of the puzzle were slipping away faster than he could grasp them. He sat up, his head spinning as his thoughts raced. It was the same feeling every time. Just when sleep began to take him, fragments of his past would flood back, one piece at a time, like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Why did this happen only when sleep threatened to overtake him? Why was his mind clinging to these memories in such a fragmented way? Lee Know ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in. It was maddening. The memories—his memories—felt just out of reach, like they were there, but he couldn’t make them whole. He lay back down, trying to calm his breathing, but the ache in his chest remained. The pieces of memories, each small fragment, hovered at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. And each time he was close to sleep, another piece would appear, only to slip away before he could make sense of it. He closed his eyes again, whispering to himself in the silence, “Why? Why can’t I remember?” And then, just as sleep threatened to claim him again, another voice, faint and distant, whispered through his thoughts. "Hyung, do you want some brownie?" This time, the voice lingered a little longer, the warmth of it pressing against his heart, but the face remained shrouded in mystery. Lee Know’s eyes opened once more, the confusion intensifying. Why was it always the same when the sleepy haze took over? Was it trying to tell him something? Was his mind trying to bring him back to the people, to the moments that had been lost? But the answers remained just out of reach, like a dream fading with the morning light