Abyssal Wanderer.

What does it feel like to lose all your memories before you turned eighteen?
If Jim Ritter himself were to describe it, it would be like having a hole opened in his chest, and walking down the street he could almost hear the howling of the cold wind.

Yes, it was the wind, not himself, that was sobbing, because he had no reason to even cry.

In reality, he had no reason to live, like a toy that had been wound up.

Therefore, Jim listened calmly as the director explained the terms of the new contract to him—even though each of them was closely related to his future life, he felt no sense of reality about them.

How could he possibly feel anything real? He had to rely on the pain of digging his nails into his palms to confirm whether he was still alive.

"So, that means I have to work for the company for six years without pay, right?"

Unable to bear listening any longer, Jim summarized for the other person.

He couldn't actually understand the terms and conditions of the new contract, but he could decipher the other party's symbolic structure—no matter how ingenious the wordplay, that was the goal they wanted to achieve.

The director paused for a moment, then nodded.

Jim took the electronic contract and inserted it into the brain-computer interface, intending to stamp it with his own soul.

Then, he stopped moving.

Having lost all his past memories, he even forgot his own mandala.

Perhaps that wasn't "himself" at all; the real Jim Ritter died the moment his memory was erased, and what's still alive now is just the residual bioelectrical reaction in his body.

"It's alright."

The director seemed to have anticipated this. He pressed the data panel, and the World Wide Web registration interface appeared before Jim's eyes.

"For some reason, you only had a brain-computer interface installed in the past, but you didn't register and bind it to an online account. So you never had your own mandala."

The director said this.

[If a user with an unrecorded interface signature is detected, please set up your mandala if this is your first visit; if you are changing interfaces, please activate your existing mandala first.]

Jim used eye movement to click on the initial visit, and the prompt popped up again in front of his eyes.

Imagine a unique, easily relatable, and unforgettable image that is close to you, and create your own mandala.

Do I still have something like that?

For a moment, Jim found it somewhat amusing.

Just as he was about to use the director's face—the first human face he had ever seen since his birth—as a substitute for a mandala, a memory that shouldn't exist flooded his mind.

Beneath a constantly shifting, pitch-black Rubik's Cube, he was naked, as if he had just been born, supporting himself on the floor and panting heavily.

A girl rushed over despite the people around her trying to stop her. She first wrapped him in a towel, and then awkwardly helped herself up.

Her short, silvery-white hair was messy, like a dandelion seed that had just been blown by the wind, with the ends sticking up slightly and a few stray hairs sticking to her forehead.

Looking into her eyes, her blue pupils, under the light, were as clear as cat's eye stones.

"Are you alright, Jimmy?"

The girl's concerned expression caught his eye.

[Beep—Your mandala has been successfully verified]

His memories were shattered, and the World Wide Web notification sound pulled him back to reality.

Jim didn't know who the girl was, nor did he want to find out.

She and her past self were on the same classified project; she'll probably never have the chance to see her again in this lifetime.

Even if he could see her again, two people who had completely lost their memories of each other, two people who were no longer "themselves," would probably never cross paths again.

Just thinking that he would have to recall her every time he verified the mandala in the future made Jim feel as if the emptiness in his chest had been filled a little bit.

"Is this okay?"

he murmured.

The director walked over, removed the electronic contract from his brain-computer interface, adjusted his glasses, and said:

"Okay, that works."

After saying goodbye to the director, Jim's healthy body carried his broken soul home like a walking corpse.

It's called a home, but it's really just a low-rent apartment recommended by Apollo Biotechnology for its employees—the kind where the rent is dynamically adjusted along with the company's housing subsidy.

Even so, for most people, that cheap little nest is still a familiar and warm place.

But for Jim, who had just surrendered all his memories, that place was neither familiar nor...

Jim, who had his hand on the doorknob, stopped his self-deprecating mental sparring and sniffed.

"curry?"

Doubt and vigilance were simultaneously activated, and he prepared for battle in a standard CQB stance.

As he gently opened the door, in addition to an even stronger aroma of curry, something else wafted out of the room...

"Jimmy!"

A girl's surprised voice rang out.

In the center of the sparsely furnished hut, resembling a prison, a silver-haired girl with blue eyes was wearing an apron, pouring heated instant curry onto a paste made of ash and water—a dish that, as a welcome feast, was hardly appealing in terms of appearance.

The girl in front of me was taller than I was as a mandala, and her hair was much longer.

"You are……"

Although Jim knew the other person was someone he knew from the past, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember her name.

As Jim spoke with a puzzled expression, the girl, who was about to pounce on him, stopped abruptly a step away from him.

"I'm sorry... it seems I know you from the past, but I really can't remember your name."

Seeing the frozen joy on the other person's face, Jim cursed the version of himself who had handed over his memories while lowering his head, not daring to make eye contact with the other person.

"Elois Hanel".

Contrary to Jim's expectations, the other party did not show any dissatisfaction or sadness.

She simply stood there with her hands behind her back, a warm smile on her face.

"Welcome home, Jimmy."

Jim seemed to hear the sound of a clockwork being wound up.

…………

"So, you also handed over your memories and withdrew from that project at the company?"

Jim mixed the ash paste with instant curry, trying his best not to associate it with its color and shape, and quickly stuffed spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, mumbling indistinctly.

Hanel looked at the paste in the spoon with a troubled expression, frowning as he said:
"That's right, so I've forgotten everything about the past."

Jim looked at Hanel with a puzzled expression, but she simply put down her lunchbox and pushed it aside, saying:

"I know what you want to ask... why do I act as if I still have memories, instead of being like you, as if I've become a completely hollow person, right?"

She rested her chin on the table and tilted her head back, seemingly wanting to observe the changes in Jim's expression. Unfortunately, Jim simply chewed his dinner expressionlessly, his face conveying no more emotion than the smell of ash.

Realizing she had made a fool of herself, she pouted and said:
"It's a special ability of the Narcissus Path. I backed up my personality in advance... Anyway, as long as all the memories are handed over, the company doesn't care whether the personality is preserved or not. In fact, you should have retained quite a few personality traits from the past."

Is that so?

Jim nodded expressionlessly.

He couldn't tell if the other party was lying—the adjuster of the Orpheus path couldn't see through the representational topology of the Narcissus path.

On the other hand, without his past self as a reference, he is unsure how much his current personality resembles his past self.

"What? You don't believe me?!"

Hanel seemed to be angered by his attitude. She picked up the lunchbox and poured all the porridge inside into Jim's almost-finished lunchbox.

"After all, that doesn't explain why you came to my house."

Jim didn't stop him, but instead carefully stirred the porridge in the lunchbox.

So, the other party may have retained some memories, or perhaps recorded them, through some means?
Jim thought to himself, but didn't dwell on it further.

"Is it possible that this is also my home?"

Hanel put down his lunchbox and put his hands on his hips.

Although she spoke with great conviction, her cheeks visibly flushed as she said it.

"Is that right?"

As Jim spoke, his gaze swept from the only simple single bed in the room to the rows of men's clothing drying on the balcony.

Hanel blushed even more. She lowered her head, letting her silver hair fall down and cover her cheeks, completely unaware that this only accentuated her blush.

"So... that means we were boyfriend and girlfriend in the past!"

Her voice, which started as a whisper, gradually turned into a loud, self-destructive declaration.

If she hadn't carefully added "probably" at the end, Jim might have actually believed it.

"Of course! After handing over our memories, we can say we've started our lives anew. All past relationships are wiped clean, and the kind of life we ​​want to live is entirely our own choice. If... if you find your past relationships difficult to face... no, no! I mean, that's actually what I'm thinking! After all, that's all in the past, and I have no obligation to carry on those relationships... but if you want to maintain those past relationships..."

Jim watched Hanel's internal struggle with his left and right brains, expressionless—he felt that Hanel was about to start arguing with himself.

"If you insist on maintaining our relationship from before you lost your memory, it's not like I can't agree."

After much deliberation, Hanel said this.

Then she looked up, saw Jim's expression, and added fiercely:
"why are you laughing?!"

Only after she reminded him did Jim realize that he was laughing.

Although the large hole in his chest still remained, Jim seemed to have regained some confidence in his future life—that one day he would completely fill it in.

"Hanell".

As Jim uttered the name, he couldn't help but recall the only girl he remembered from the past eighteen years of his life.

Hanel's expression tightened.

"What? Speak up if you have something to say!"

She seemed to be trying to cover up her nervousness by speaking loudly, but she didn't expect that the tremor in her voice would also be amplified.

"Actually, I should be the one asking you this question."

Jim looked directly into Hanel's eyes and said:
"Would you still be willing to maintain the relationship we had before the amnesia?"

As he expected, the other person hurriedly put down the lunchbox, covered his face, and fled the low-rent house.

…………

Filling the void created by the missing eighteen years of one's life is a slow and arduous process.

Especially after that, Jim was assigned to Apollo Biotech's counterintelligence department—focused on internal purges, investigating external spies and internal corruption. He would also be deeply involved in the power struggles between different factions within the company.

According to the "director," engaging in internal intelligence work is considered "making the best use" of the Orpheus Path's capabilities. After all, the ability to discern the truthfulness of words and the ability to hack into consciousness seem to be innately suited for this profession. In terms of scarcity, even an Olympus-like corporation like Apollo Bio is not allowed to have too many high-risk Path Adjusters—at least not openly.

After experiencing so much darkness and danger, Jim himself didn't know what kind of monster he would have become if it weren't for Hanel.

Or will he end his own life before he completely transforms into a monster?
During his years working in the counterintelligence department, he witnessed the darkness of countless companies and the depravity of human nature. He even had countless lives on his hands—fortunately, due to the nature of his work, at least the blood of innocent people didn't need to be on his hands. But correspondingly, those he had to deal with were almost always ruthless individuals.

But along the way, he witnessed countless innocent people die because of company research, power struggles, or simply because of the whims of some company executives.

Faced with this, he had no choice but to close his eyes and pretend he couldn't see it.

After carefully sniffing himself for a while to check for any lingering blood, Jim opened the door.

"Did you work overtime tonight?"

In the simple kitchen, Hanel was cooking a pot of sticky curry—after all these years, this was still the only dish she knew how to make.

After their "new life," they didn't immediately get together.

In fact, it took them almost two years to officially become a couple. Then, due to a job transfer, they were in a long-distance relationship for another two years before they started living together.

It has been five years since they were born that they have become so familiar with each other, almost like husband and wife.

Jim first took off his suit and hung it on the hanger, then collapsed onto the sofa.

He covered his eyes wearily and said:

"Hanell, I'm a little unsure whether what I'm doing is right or wrong..."

As the footsteps drew closer, he felt a warm hand caress his cheek.

"As long as you follow your heart, it must be the right choice."

Without asking what had happened, Hanel offered gentle words of comfort.

Jim stood up and hugged her, then slowly told her what had happened in the interrogation room that day.

A peripheral department of Apollo Biotechnology has captured a spy planted in the company by an underground resistance organization in the Eden settlement. Jim is called in for interrogation.

Whether by characterizing topological structures or distributing Nyx factors, Jim can quickly extract information from his opponents.

But after reviewing the case file, Jim decided to raise the muzzle of his gun by one centimeter.

So he kept going in circles and wasting time. Even when he finally got the correct information from the topological representation, he insisted that the other party seemed to have received professional training and that he couldn't find the answer.

But Jim didn't expect that after his "advanced interrogation method" failed, the interrogation room would switch to "traditional interrogation methods".

He didn't describe the scenes of those traditional methods to Hanel—just recalling them now makes his stomach cramp—he simply expressed his bewilderment to her.

Why are humans able to commit such cruel crimes against each other with a clear conscience?

Hanel did not answer the question immediately; for a moment, the only sounds in the room were the bubbling of curry and the gentle stroking of Jim's head.

After a long silence, she finally spoke:

"Just bear with it a little longer, Jimmy. Your contract only lasts a year." (End of Chapter)