Chapter 4

Two years ago, Liam had narrowly escaped death from that group of drug traffickers.

When he left, it was with his childhood friend, Sam.

When he returned, his left hand was missing two fingers, and he carried an urn.

That urn didn't contain Sam's remains, but a few charred personal items.

Sam’s identity had been exposed just as his undercover mission was nearing its end.

The drug traffickers had tortured him beyond imagination, slowly dismembered, for two days and a night.

And the final blow that took Sam’s life? Liam had delivered it himself.

Sam’s shattered remains were thrown into the ocean.

The police quickly received a tip-off and wiped out the largest drug trafficking den in the Southern Borderlands.

But one person was left there forever.

Liam developed severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

He would forget and confuse many things.

But he would never forget that he had killed someone.

The one person who shouldn't have died.

He became increasingly disoriented and out of touch with reality.

Many times, due to hallucinations, he almost died in accidents.

Later, he tried to end his life several times.

Until the third time he ran out of the house, was hit by a car in the middle of the street, and rushed to the emergency room, his life hanging by a thread.

I sat outside the ER, waiting all night.

At dawn, I finally decided to follow the police and hospital's advice.

To let Liam undergo hypnotic therapy, to forget everything about the past.

Everything, including me.

We arranged a psychologist for him.

But he had been a narcotics officer for so many years; his detective instincts were too sharp.

He guessed our intentions and showed extreme resistance to the psychologist.

Liam became even more insecure, more irritable.

In the dead of night, he would suddenly wake up from a dream.

In the dim light, he would look at me with wary, helpless eyes and say:

“Alice, do you want me to forget you too? Do you not want me anymore?”