Light slipped through the narrow gap between the curtains, its pale rays creeping across the unfamiliar room before settling against Elifero's face. The morning sunlight lingered on his skin, gentle and warm, as though attempting to coax the boy beneath the covers back into consciousness. Yet he remained motionless, his body sunk deep into the mattress, his breathing shallow and sluggish beneath the weight of exhaustion.
Then a heavy sound echoed from somewhere outside.
Thud.
Elifero's brow twitched faintly, but he made no effort to move. A few seconds later, the sound came again, accompanied by distant voices and the carefree laughter of children playing nearby. Their cheerful chatter drifted through the window, carrying the ordinary rhythm of a world that had continued turning without him. Whatever occupied the people outside, none of them seemed aware of the exhausted boy lying in the room.
Thud.
His eyelids fluttered. For several seconds, Elifero stared at the ceiling through a haze of confusion, blinking repeatedly as his vision struggled to sharpen. The unfamiliar surface above him gradually came into focus, but instead of bringing relief, the sight only deepened his uncertainty. He had never seen that ceiling before—or, at least, he could not remember seeing it.
His lips parted slightly. His mouth felt dreadful, parched to the point of discomfort, with cracked lips, a bitter tongue, and a throat so dry that even swallowing hurt. He tried anyway, immediately regretting the effort as a weak groan escaped him.
"Agh…"
The sound came out rough and raspy, barely resembling a proper voice. Elifero slowly turned his head, surveying the room as though the answer to his confusion might be hidden somewhere among its contents. A bed. Curtains. Furniture. A small table. None of it meant anything to him.
Where am I?
The question surfaced almost instinctively, followed by another that seemed just as important.
How did I get here?
He closed his eyes and tried to retrace his thoughts, searching for some recollection of the previous day. Perhaps he had simply woken up disoriented. Perhaps a little patience would allow his memories to settle into place. He searched again, asking himself where he had been yesterday, who had brought him to this room, and where he was supposed to be.
Nothing came.
Elifero opened his eyes, and an uncomfortable tightness formed in his chest. The questions were becoming harder to ignore, each one leading to another until they formed a growing knot of uncertainty. He had no recollection of arriving here, no idea who had cared for him, and no memory of the place he called home.
Then a more frightening question surfaced.
Who am I?
He froze. His fingers tightened around the blanket as he tried to dismiss the thought, unwilling to believe that something so fundamental could be missing. Surely he knew his own name. Everyone knew their own name. He squeezed his eyes shut and searched again, reaching desperately for the simplest fact about himself.
What's my name?
Silence.
His heart skipped a beat. He abruptly sat upright, and the sudden movement sent the room spinning around him. A sharp wave of dizziness forced him to seize the edge of the bed, gripping it until the worst of the sensation passed. His breathing had quickened, each breath coming a little faster than the last as panic began to seep into his thoughts.
Think.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Think!
A name. His home. His family. Anything that could prove he had once been someone with a life beyond this unfamiliar room. He searched for a face, a voice, a place, or even the faintest impression of a memory, but every attempt ended in the same unbearable emptiness. It felt like reaching into a pocket where something precious should have been, only to discover that it contained nothing at all.
When Elifero finally opened his eyes, the room seemed different. The silence had grown oppressive, pressing against him from every direction. There were no familiar voices to reassure him, no recognisable faces to guide him, and no memories waiting to explain how he had arrived in this place.
He didn't even know himself.
His gaze wandered around the room once more, searching for anything that might offer an explanation. Eventually, he noticed a small counter beside the bed. A metal tray rested on its surface, holding a bowl of oat porridge that had long since lost its warmth and a glass of water. Beside them sat a small box, with a folded piece of paper resting neatly on top.
Elifero hesitated before reaching for it. His fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the paper, revealing a brief message written in plain handwriting.
Please take the pills after eating. They will help you.
He read it once, then again, hoping that a second look might reveal something he had missed. It didn't. There was no name, no explanation, and nothing to tell him where he was or why someone had left food and medicine beside his bed.
His eyes shifted towards the small box, then the porridge, and finally the glass of water. Suspicion gradually crept into his thoughts. Someone had brought him here, tended to his injuries, prepared food, and left instructions for medication. Yet whoever had done all of this had apparently decided not to explain anything.
"Why would someone feed me?" he muttered.
His own voice sounded strange to him, rough and unfamiliar, and that realisation only deepened his discomfort. He looked at the pills again, then back at the note.
"Why would they help me? And how do I know those pills aren't poisoned?"
His stomach answered with a loud, unmistakable growl.
Elifero lowered his gaze.
"...Seriously?"
The porridge hardly looked threatening. Although it had gone cold, its faint smell of oats still reached him, and his empty stomach seemed determined to make the decision for him. Another growl rumbled through him, but he turned away with a frown.
"No. There are already too many questions about whoever put me here."
Food could wait. Until he understood his circumstances—or at least knew whether the person caring for him could be trusted—he wasn't going to accept everything placed in front of him without question.
Elifero pushed the blanket aside and carefully lowered his feet to the floor. He rose slowly, only for his legs to wobble beneath him.
"Whoa—"
He caught himself against the bed, remaining there until his body adjusted to the effort. Once the dizziness had subsided, he noticed a mirror nearby and approached it cautiously, curious to see the face belonging to the unfamiliar voice and the empty space inside his head.
The boy staring back at him looked utterly exhausted. His hair was untidy from sleep, his skin appeared drained, and confusion lingered behind his eyes. Elifero studied his reflection for several seconds, searching for something in those unfamiliar features that might stir a memory.
That's me.
At least he knew that much.
Then his gaze dropped to the bandages covering his body. One was wrapped around his knee, another crossed his chest and stomach, and a third encircled his palm. He looked down at them with a puzzled frown.
"Why am I wearing bandages...?"
He touched the one around his hand. There was no pain. He pressed gently against the covered skin, but the result was the same.
"There's nothing wrong with me."
Curiosity soon overcame his hesitation. He caught the edge of the bandage and began unwinding it, layer by layer, expecting to find a cut, dried blood, or some other indication of an injury. Instead, when the final strip fell away, he discovered that his skin was completely intact.
Elifero stared at his palm.
"What...?"
He checked his knee next, carefully removing the bandage to reveal unblemished skin. There were no wounds, no scratches, and not even a scar. His chest and stomach proved no different. Before long, discarded bandages lay scattered around his feet as he stood before the mirror, increasingly unsettled by what he had discovered.
Someone had treated injuries that apparently didn't exist.
Then why were they there?
He searched his mind for an explanation, but the familiar emptiness swallowed the question before he could find an answer. At the foot of the bed, he noticed a neatly folded set of clothes. He picked them up, examining the fabric with the same suspicion he had shown the food before eventually deciding to change.
The shirt slipped over his head, and fresh fabric brushed against his skin. Elifero lifted one sleeve towards his nose and sniffed it cautiously.
"These must be mine," he whispered. "They're... clean."
The discovery did little to reassure him. Even something as ordinary as a set of clothes offered no clue about his identity or the circumstances that had brought him here.
Once dressed, Elifero approached the window and caught the curtains between his fingers. He pulled them apart, allowing morning sunlight to flood the room. Squinting against the brightness, he looked out over the street below.
Life continued as though nothing unusual had happened. People walked along the road, exchanging casual greetings, while a pair of children ran past chasing a ball, their laughter rising above the ordinary bustle. Someone called out from farther down the street, and another person answered. Everything appeared peaceful, familiar to the people who lived there.
Everything looked so normal.
Elifero remained by the window, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings with growing unease.
Is this where I live?
Nothing about the place felt familiar.
Nearby, a man was working the earth with a hoe. He raised the tool above his shoulder before bringing it down with a dull impact.
Thud.
Elifero's eyes twitched.
The man lifted it again.
Thud.
Something stirred inside Elifero's mind. It was faint at first, no more than an uncomfortable sensation lurking just beyond his understanding. He frowned, trying to make sense of it, as the man continued working.
Thud.
Suddenly, his mind erupted in fire.
A house collapsed beneath roaring flames, its structure groaning as the blaze devoured timber and swallowed the rooms within. Smoke blotted out the sky. People fled in terror, their desperate screams tearing through the chaos. Elifero caught fragmented glimpses of the destruction—a bloodied hand, a face twisted in fear, a figure disappearing behind the smoke—
"AH!"
His legs gave way, and he crashed to the floor. Both hands flew to his head as a violent stab of pain exploded behind his eyes.
"Agh—!"
The images came too quickly for him to comprehend. A night sky stained by smoke. Flames surging through a ruined home. Someone calling out. A shadowy figure. Blood splattering across—
"No!"
Elifero pressed his hands over his ears, as though he could somehow shut out the memories forcing their way into his mind. His breathing turned frantic, each broken gasp accompanied by another fragment of a scene he couldn't understand. He didn't know whether he was witnessing something that had happened to him, something he had seen, or something his imagination had created.
Then, just as abruptly as they had appeared, the images vanished.
The pain receded, leaving Elifero crouched on the floor, trembling and struggling to catch his breath. He slowly raised his head towards the window. Outside, the man continued working the earth, apparently oblivious to the disturbance he had caused.
Thud.
Elifero flinched and quickly looked away.
"It was just a dream," he whispered.
His voice shook, and he swallowed hard before repeating the words as though saying them twice might make them true.
"That's all. Just... a bad dream."
He needed it to be. Because if those images weren't a dream, he didn't want to know what they meant.
A few moments later, a knock sounded at the door.
Knock. Knock.
Elifero stiffened. His gaze snapped towards the entrance, and he struggled to compose himself before the handle turned. The door opened, revealing a woman who stepped into the room and paused when she noticed him awake.
Relief softened her expression.
"Good. You're awake."
Elifero said nothing. He moved backward slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on her as she entered. The woman glanced towards the bed, seemingly unaware of the alarm her presence had stirred in him.
"I thought I'd find you still sleeping."
Her voice was calm and casual, as though his presence in the house were perfectly ordinary. She spoke with the ease of someone who had expected to find him there, someone who had already accepted his presence as part of her day.
Who is she?
The woman approached the counter and lifted the tray. Her gaze settled on the untouched porridge.
"You didn't eat."
Elifero remained silent, unable to decide whether he should answer or continue watching her. She didn't appear angry or offended by his silence.
"The food's cold now anyway," she remarked. "I'll prepare supper instead."
She turned towards the doorway but paused before leaving. Without fully turning around, she offered him one final reassurance.
"You can trust me."
Elifero narrowed his eyes slightly. The words should have been comforting, but something about them made him more suspicious. He had no memory of this woman, no idea why he was in her house, and no reason to trust her simply because she had told him to.
"I'll call you when it's ready."
With that, she left, and the door clicked shut behind her.
Elifero continued staring at it.
"...Trust you?"
He wasn't sure why, but being told to trust someone somehow made trusting them harder.
Later that day, another voice rang through the house.
"Mom! I'm back!"
The front door closed, followed by a rush of footsteps. From downstairs, the woman's voice answered.
"Olian!"
"What?"
"Can you please get the boy upstairs? He's awake."
A brief pause followed.
"He's awake, huh?" the girl scoffed. "It's about time."
Rapid footsteps thundered towards the stairs.
Upstairs, Elifero had spent much of the day examining his surroundings, hoping that something—anything—might awaken a memory. His efforts had yielded nothing. Eventually, his attention had settled on a framed photograph, which he had picked up and begun studying.
It showed a family. The woman who had visited him earlier stood among the people in the picture, accompanied by several others whose faces meant nothing to him. He examined them carefully, wondering whether any of them might be connected to the missing pieces of his life.
Before he could look any closer, the bedroom door suddenly flew open.
Elifero jumped.
A girl stood in the doorway, her eyes immediately falling on the photograph in his hands. Her expression changed, and whatever surprise she had felt at finding him awake was quickly replaced by anger.
"What in hell died and gave you permission to touch my things?"
Elifero froze.
"What?"
"Put it down!"
Fear rushed through him, but almost simultaneously, something else stirred beneath it—a strange sensation of recognition. He stared at the girl, trying to understand why she seemed familiar. There was no memory to accompany the feeling, no name or scene to explain it, yet some part of him insisted that he knew her.
Or at least, that he should.
His mind reached desperately for the missing recollection, but once again he found nothing. The feeling remained, leaving him confused and unable to look away.
"I—I'm sorry," he stammered, quickly lowering the photograph. "I didn't mean to—"
The girl snatched it from him and turned away, visibly offended. Elifero watched her, his thoughts racing as he struggled to understand the inexplicable familiarity she had stirred in him.
Who is she?
Why did she feel familiar?
Before he could ask, the woman's voice travelled upstairs.
"Olian! Bring him down! Supper is ready!"
The girl sighed.
"Come on."
She didn't wait for him. Elifero followed her downstairs, where the dining table had been laid with food. He sat quietly, uncertain where to place his hands or how he was expected to behave. The smell alone made his empty stomach ache with hunger.
The woman smiled at him.
"I hope you enjoy the meal."
"Thank you," he replied awkwardly.
Beside him, Olian leaned closer. Her voice dropped low enough that only he could hear her next words.
"She didn't have to go this far for some lowlife like you."
Elifero slowly turned towards her, taken aback by the contempt in her voice. Yet Olian continued eating as though she hadn't said anything at all.
What's her problem?
He decided not to answer. He had enough questions to deal with already, and antagonising the girl would hardly help him understand where he was or why he had been brought here.
They continued eating. At first, Elifero hesitated, still suspicious of the unfamiliar food, but hunger eventually overcame his doubts. The meal was warm and satisfying, and, as far as he could tell, not poisoned.
That was reassuring.
When supper ended, the woman folded her hands on the table.
"I suppose we haven't properly introduced ourselves."
Elifero looked towards her.
"My name is Julie C. Boulevard," she said, gesturing towards the girl beside her. "And this is my daughter, Olian C. Boulevard."
Olian barely acknowledged him.
Julie waited, and Elifero soon realised that she expected him to introduce himself in return. His stomach tightened as he searched his mind for an answer, but the effort only brought back the same hollow silence.
"I..."
He tried again.
Nothing.
His fingers curled slightly beneath the table.
"I don't remember."
Julie tilted her head.
"Your name?"
His voice grew quieter.
"I don't remember my name."
Olian clicked her tongue.
"Tch. Typical."
Julie turned towards her daughter.
"Olian."
Elifero lowered his gaze, struggling to explain something he barely understood himself.
"I don't remember anything about myself. I don't know where I came from, and I don't know where my home is."
Silence settled around the table.
"Tch."
Olian leaned back in her chair, her expression hardening.
"Of course."
Julie suddenly slammed her palm against the table.
Bang!
"Enough!"
Elifero flinched. Olian turned towards her mother, irritation flashing across her face.
"What?"
"You've been rude to him since you walked into this house," Julie snapped. "He hasn't done anything to you."
"So?"
Olian shoved her chair backward. Its legs scraped violently across the floor as she stood.
"Whatever."
She turned and walked away.
"Olian—"
But the girl was already gone. Moments later, the front door slammed, leaving silence in her wake.
Julie closed her eyes, releasing a tired sigh before looking back at Elifero.
"Please forgive her."
His gaze lingered on the door through which Olian had disappeared.
"She wasn't always like this," Julie explained quietly.
Elifero didn't know what to say. Eventually, he nodded.
"It's okay."
Julie began collecting the plates, but Elifero's attention drifted towards the framed family photograph he had seen upstairs. Something about it continued to bother him. There had been more people in that picture than were sitting at the table, and the absence of those missing faces had left him curious.
He hesitated before speaking.
"Can I ask something?"
Julie paused.
"Of course."
"Will your husband and..." Elifero searched for the right words. "...her brother not be eating with us?"
Julie's hands became still.
The warmth faded from her expression, and Elifero immediately regretted asking.
"I—sorry. I didn't mean—"
"No." Julie lowered her eyes. "It's alright."
For several seconds, she remained silent, gathering herself before continuing.
"My husband died two years ago. In the war."
Elifero's expression softened.
"Oh..."
"And my son..." Julie swallowed. "He followed a year later."
Elifero didn't know what to say. He could only listen as Julie explained what had happened.
"Illness."
The word left her quietly. She looked towards the stairs, and a faint, sorrowful smile appeared on her face.
"JJ. That was his name."
Her smile carried a tenderness that made the sadness beneath it all the more apparent.
"Olian adored him. He was probably the only person who could make her smile, no matter what happened. The only friend she ever really needed."
Julie stacked the plates together, allowing herself a small laugh as she recalled their childhood.
"The two of them were like glue. Wherever JJ went, Olian wasn't far behind."
The laugh faded almost as quickly as it had come.
"Then he was gone."
Elifero listened, feeling an unexpected tightness in his chest. He couldn't explain why Julie's words affected him so deeply. Perhaps he had witnessed something similar before. Perhaps, somewhere within the empty spaces of his memory, he still understood what it meant to lose someone important.
He couldn't tell.
Julie continued gathering the dishes.
"She's only fourteen," she said. "She's angry at everything, sometimes."
Her gaze shifted towards the door Olian had disappeared through.
"Please... try to understand her."
Elifero remained quiet.
"And if you can..." Julie hesitated. "Try to befriend her."
Her?
After the way Olian had treated him, that seemed easier said than done. He had barely spoken to the girl, yet she had already made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Still, he thought about the photograph, about the brother who was no longer there, and about Julie's insistence that Olian hadn't always been this way.
Perhaps there was more to the girl than her hostility suggested.
He had many questions left unanswered. About Julie. About Olian. About the unfamiliar house and the person who had found him. About the strange images that had assaulted his mind when the man outside struck the earth with his hoe.
And most of all, he wanted to understand what had happened to him—and who he had been before waking up in this unfamiliar room.
But Julie's expression told him that this wasn't the time to ask for more.
Elifero slowly nodded.
This time, he meant it.