Forget Mr 소설 & 이야기

ALEX The office felt colder tonight. It wasn’t the temperature but the heavy silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. My sanctuary, once a place of focus and strategy, now felt suffocating, like the walls were pressing in on me. I sat behind my desk, nursing a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the dim light from the desk lamp. Ricardo’s face haunted me—his smug smirk, his piercing eyes. The encounter at the mall was brief, but it had triggered memories I’d worked hard to bury. The way he said “ just surprising an old friend”

Adriel's phone rang, breaking the silence in his study. He answered, his voice firm. "Steven, what did you find out?" "Hey, boss. I have got some info on hyperamnesia," Steven said, his voice serious. "From what I gathered, hyperamnesia is a rare condition where a person's memory is...uhmm… altered. They might forget important details, or even entire chunks of their life." Adriel's grip on the phone tightened. "What do you mean by 'altered'?"

Joseph asked, stunning me. Ruby tensed at his words. “I have to leave now?” She asked, sounding hurt. “It’s better if you leave sooner rather than later,” he explained, trying to keep his tone gentle. “Well… why can’t that other guy take me? What’s his name? Connor?” She asked, pretending she didn’t remember his name. But I saw the blush on her face, and I tried desperately to hide the grin on my lips. “Connor doesn’t have the ability to erase your memories. Only I and Bernard can do that,” Joseph explained. “It’s better if you forget everything once you are back in your home.”

a healer said. "What? Can his memory come back?" Elisa asked with an unpleasant expression. "It can. There's still a small amount of wolfsbane in the Alpha's system. Once it's fully metabolized, his memory will return." Elisa breathed a sigh of relief. Anything was fine as long as it didn't delay their mating ceremony. Beta Jack glanced at her disapprovingly and continued questioning the healer. "How long will it take for his memory to return?" "It's uncertain—could be as soon as tomorrow, or it might take five to six months for the wolfsbane to be fully metabolized."

The doctor's words echoed in my mind long after leaving the hospital. "You're already showing signs of memory loss. “With active treatment, you might live for another six months to a year. You should contact your family to discuss a treatment plan as soon as possible." "And if I don't get the treatment?" "Well…At most, you’ll have three months." Just then, my phone rang, and a middle-aged woman's voice came through. "Come home this weekend for Tara’s birthday party."

Rocky whispers, smiling still. “No,” I firmly decline, I don't want anything to do with this man, that one night of outlandish was enough. Mr crazy comes forward and introduces himself, seemingly normal when he speaks. “Hi, I'm Adrian. Adrian Moretti.” I don't shake his hand, I merely stare at it and then lift my gaze to his. His stare is expressionless, he has this blank look in his eyes like most rich people I've met. “We've met,” I feign a smile. “A very unpleasant encounter if you ask me.”

“Then why the hell haven’t I gotten my memory back? Living like this... it’s not exactly ideal.” Dr. Moretti exhaled softly, giving me that sympathetic nod doctors must learn in med school. “Memory loss, especially due to prolonged medical conditions, doesn’t always have a predictable timeline. Your brain is showing excellent signs of recovery, and I have every reason to believe your memories will return.” He leaned forward slightly. “But you need to give it time. Forcing it could do more harm than good.”

My camera could take pictures of people as they would look three days in the future. I took a photo of my parents. They were sitting in the front row at my wedding, their hands clasped tightly and smiles of satisfaction on their faces. Then a photo of my sister. She was standing off to the side, smiling as she held the ring box. Next was my childhood best friend. He was dressed as a groomsman, filming the ceremony on his phone with an excited look on his face. Everyone looked happy. Everything was perfect. Excitedly, I turned the camera toward my girlfriend Vivian. But the instant I pressed the shutter, I stopped breathing. In the photo, Vivian was slipping a ring onto someone's finger

Because every real man would love this kind of thing. "I prefer you like him!" Zane stared at the figure in front of him with furrowed brows. He was about to swear, but when he looked at the suit of clothes, shoes and the smooth, well-groomed skin of the man in front of him, Zane stopped him. She firmly believed that the man was very rich and it seemed that he had seen him too. But where? Zane did not remember where he had ever seen the figure in front of him. Naturally, Zane has a short term memory system. Because for Zane, it didn't matter at the time. Actually, not only that, the name of his girlfriend and future wife, Zane, often forgets. Yes, you know, they are not a priority for Zane.

Most of what she skimmed looked like medical gibberish to her. She opened another journal with a bookmark. In that article, he had written about an experimental drug called Memrose. He had developed it with a former colleague who was a neurosurgeon as well. It was a drug that could be used to erase the memory of prisoners of war. After years of testing and adjusting, Memrose was successful in wiping the memories of prisoners of war as far back as a year. They would have no memory of where they were held and what they were asked or what they had told the enemy before being released. “Oh my God!”