The Archive stretched endlessly around them. Every step Ren took echoed softly across the marble floor, swallowed by the weight of silence. The halls were vast, lined with shelves that towered far above, stacked with scrolls and tomes whose ink had long begun to fade. Dust drifted lazily in shafts of pale light, falling from arched ceilings carved with runes that pulsed faintly as if the building itself was alive.

Ren followed close behind Ervin. The man's stride was unhurried, steady, as though every corner and passage here was burned into memory. His black cloak trailed across the floor, brushing against the sigils etched into the stone.

Ren's eyes wandered over the walls. Each was engraved with fragments of symbols, patterns he half-recognized yet could not name. A quiet shiver traced his spine. It feels like walking inside someone else's memory, he thought.

"Sir, Where is Watson?," Ren finally spoke, his voice quiet in the cavernous space.

"Wait soon you will meet with him," Ervin answered without turning. "But you must understand… what you find may not be the Watson you remember."

Ren's brow furrowed. "I know and understand it also. Don't worry I won't force him to remember me."

Ervin slowed, his boots pausing on a rune-carved step. For a moment he seemed to weigh his words, then he continued walking. " That's good. I understand what you are feeling but we can't bring his memories forcefully. Scientists say that if we do that, then he will lose his memories forever. This war has taken a heavy toll on everyone, not just on you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding.

Ren's fists tightened at his sides. He had seen comrades fall, seen lives stolen by war, but the thought of Watson and his family reduced to an empty shell gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

They turned down a narrower corridor. The shelves gave way to stone doors, each sealed with glowing marks. The deeper they walked, the quieter it became, until even the faint hum of the Archive seemed to fade away.

Finally, Ervin stopped before a chamber. With a wave of his hand, the sigils carved into the door unraveled, the stone sliding back with a low groan.

Inside, the chamber was plain. A simple wooden table sat in the center, flanked by two chairs. Chairs were in opposite side. In between them there was a table. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, mingled with the dryness of parchment.

And there, seated quietly, was Watson.

Ren froze.

His friend looked almost the same broad shoulders, familiar hair, the same tired set of his jaw. Yet there was something missing in his eyes. They held no light of recognition, only a muted calm, as if he were gazing at the world through a fog.

Watson turned at the sound of the door. His gaze landed on Ervin, then on Ren, steady but blank, and after a pause, he spoke.

"Ohh! So mage Ervin came to meet me with a stranger. Nice. Welcome. How are you by the way?"

The words hit harder than any blade.

Ren's breath caught in his chest. His heart throbbed painfully as he stepped forward behind Ervin, studying every detail of the man before him. "Really, he is Watson? He looks like that but his tone has changed?" He spoke in his mind. Then Ervin sat on the chair. His shoulders were hunched slightly forward, his gaze towards Watson, His fingers tapped against the chair's armrest in a slow, restless rhythm.

He noticed him, he blinked slowly. Then he spoked...

"I am fine. What about you?" Ervin asked with a faint smile. His voice was calm but carrying a hint of concern. He gestured toward the chair across from Watson.

"As always, I am good," Watson replied with smile, though his eyes betrayed the weight pressing down on him. "Nina told me to sit here. So what question's answers you want?"

Watson exhaled softly, leaning back. He blinked again, his gaze fixed on Ervin.

"I heard you haven't eaten properly for three days," Ervin said. His tone was gentle, but his posture had stiffened slightly, betraying his worry.

"Yaah. That's true," Watson admitted, his voice low. His fingers stilled on the armrest, curling slightly into his palm.

"Why? What is the reason?" Ervin asked, his sharp eyes narrowing just a little, searching Watson's expression.

"Nothing much. I don't know…" Watson's voice trembled faintly. He lowered his gaze to the floorboards. "But I have been having dreams of some unknown person for the last three days. Scary dreams as if I know him. As if he is an old friend of mine. And thinking about that dream, I don't feel like eating."

Ervin's lips pressed into a thin line. He leaned back, folding his arms as if weighing his words carefully.

"Ohh, I understand," he said finally. "Don't take too much stress and forgive it. Don't take it too seriously, it's just a dream."

"Yaah, I know." Watson lifted his eyes again, but they glistened faintly as though his emotions were close to breaking. "But my gut feelings tell me that it's real. I have a best friend but I don't know about him. Even in my dreams I didn't see his face."

"Hmm…" Ervin's jaw tightened. He didn't interrupt, letting Watson spill what weighed on him.

"I know, I lost my some past memories," Watson continued, his voice cracking slightly. His hand gripped the wooden armrest tighter. "Maybe he is one of them. I know him from the past."

"Probably, it is." Ervin's voice softened, though his gaze grew sharper. "Since you didn't see his face, then we can't find him."

"Yaah, I understand." Watson let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head faintly. "It will take a time. By time I will forgive about it." He glanced toward the window, the light falling over his tired expression. "By the way, who is this person behind standing you?"

Ervin blinked, then glanced at Ren who had been silent until now, observing with unreadable eyes.

"Ohh… Sorry, I forgot to introduce him," Ervin said. He gestured toward Ren. "He is a mage. He has the same power like Elara but opposite. His name is Ren Calder."

Watson tilted his head, studying Ren with quiet curiosity. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes still carried a shadow of weariness.

"Nice name. It's interesting that he has powers like Elara," he said. "So might be he is on 2nd rank in mage ranking."

"His powers are not fully awakened," Ervin explained. He glanced at Ren briefly before returning his gaze to Watson. "He can control some of his powers. So probably he is not in the mage ranking now."

"Yaah, right." Watson nodded slowly, his fingers now tapping again, this time slower, steadier. "To be a part of mage ranking, you have to have full control of your powers. By the way, nice to meet you Ren. How are you?"

Ren finally stepped forward, his movements calm and deliberate. His expression carried a quiet weight, as though every word he spoke came measured.

"Nice to meet you. I am fine. What about you?"

"As always I am good," Watson answered, though the faint tremor in his voice betrayed otherwise. His eyes lingered on Ren a little too long, as if searching for something unspoken, something buried deep within his fractured memory.

The silence lingered after Watson's words, stretching between them like an invisible thread that neither man could quite grasp. Ren's chest felt tight as he stood there, Watson's eyes resting on him with quiet curiosity searching, but never finding.

Ren lowered his gaze for a moment, forcing his breath steady. "He really doesn't remember me…" The thought was like ice pressing against his ribs. Still, he raised his head and gave a small nod, forcing calm into his voice.

"I'm glad," Ren said softly. "It's good that you're well."

Watson smiled faintly, though the expression never reached his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, his shoulders sinking deeper into the wooden frame as if tired from holding the weight of words he could not say. The tapping of his fingers on the armrest returned, steady and rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat.

Ervin glanced between them, his arms still crossed. His sharp eyes caught everything, the slight tremor in Watson's voice, the way Ren's jaw tightened when Watson looked at him without recognition. Yet, he said nothing. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

The room held its breath. Dust hung in the dull lattice of afternoon light, and the faint hum of the Archive's sigils thrummed underfoot like a slow pulse.

Watson's gaze stayed on Ren, searching, the muscles at the corners of his jaw working. His fingers tapped once against the chair's arm, then stilled.

"Why does your face look familiar?" he asked quietly. "Have we met before?"

Ren's throat tightened. He let the silence sit a heartbeat, then eased a hand to the back of the empty chair, grounding himself on the cool wood.

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