"Anson... Do you really not remember?"
Lucas asked.
His eyes were filled with too many emotions to name—fear, hesitation, anxiety, and sadness all intertwined, leaving him restless, as if he were tossing and turning in the flames of hell, never finding peace.
Anson met Lucas's gaze calmly and nodded firmly.
"Yeah. I don't remember anything."
Lucas was stunned.
"The things you just described—I have no recollection of them. It's like I'm listening to someone else's story. Honestly, if I didn't trust you, I might think you were making it up, because there isn't a single memory in my mind to prove that any of those things happened to me."
Anson let out a soft sigh.
"Lucas, if anyone's to blame, we should blame the ones who committed the crime. It's all their fault. We shouldn't carry their guilt and pain."
"Besides, from the start, it was my decision to go, and I was the one who ran away. You shouldn't blame yourself."
"Back then, you were just a kid."
Lucas stared blankly at Anson, not moving, until tears wet his cheeks. Realizing how disheveled he looked, he quickly wiped his face with his hand, took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky.
"...It's not your job to comfort me."
Anson said, "But Mom and Dad never comforted you either."
Lucas didn't respond.
Although the Woods never blamed Lucas, he could never forgive himself.
Lucas rubbed the corner of his eye. "Sometimes, I wished they would scold me, but they never did. They just pretended it never happened."
And so, the wound remained there—
Festering. Infected. Never healing.
It wasn't just Lucas; the Woods were the same. They worked hard to maintain their everyday lives, afraid to stop or examine the wound, fearing that if they let up even a little, their lives would fall apart.
That's why they doted on Anson so fiercely, almost irrationally.
Anson was the key to keeping everything in balance.
As long as he was there, they were all there; but what if he wasn't?
It was impossible to imagine what would have happened to the Wood family if Anson had truly closed his eyes forever in that bathroom stall.
Thinking of this made Anson feel a bit sad, and a little jealous too.
In his previous life, that was all he ever wanted. He didn't care if they lost everything, didn't mind hitting rock bottom. Even in endless darkness and despair, as long as his family was together, there would be hope.
But he never had that.
His father disappeared without a trace, and he never saw him again—didn't even know if he was alive or dead.
He tried to convince himself that his father left to protect them, to keep them safe, but as time went on, he had no energy left to think about it.
His mother tried to help, wholeheartedly supporting him, but there was nothing she could do. She just hoped, day and night, that his father would come back.
And then... everything would magically get better.
Closing his eyes, memories of his past life came flooding back.
But Anson quickly regained control of himself.
He had promised himself not to dwell on the past and to focus on the present.
This time, he wanted to enjoy life.
"Lucas."
Lucas didn't look up, but Anson didn't give up. He waited patiently, letting the silence stretch on.
Finally, Lucas noticed something unusual, raised his head, and saw the smile in Anson's eyes.
"It's in the past."
Anson looked Lucas in the eye.
"You shouldn't keep punishing yourself."
"Look, I don't remember anything. There's not a single memory in my mind. I've already moved on, but you're all still stuck in the past."
Maybe it was time to let go.
Lucas remained frozen, his mind swirling with thoughts, unable to process it all.
If Anson truly had no memory of what happened and could continue living his life, that would be a good thing. Those memories could stay buried in the ashes of time.
But why couldn't Lucas feel happy?
"No."
Lucas finally found his thoughts and grasped the core of the matter amidst the chaos.
"No, no, no, you're lying."
"You just haven't remembered yet, but deep down, those nightmares are still lurking, aren't they?"
"That's the real reason we're talking about this today. You can't ignore the signs, the unease."
"If you truly didn't remember anything, you wouldn't be asking about it."
Lucas stared hard at Anson, his deep eyes glowing faintly in the night, full of tension and unease, locking onto Anson like a predator, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of weakness.
The night couldn't hide his gaze. Instead, the darkness made Anson feel the danger closing in, an overwhelming pressure pressing down on him.
Anson let out a small sigh, his lips curling in a faint, helpless smile.
"Ah, Lucas, you're too smart. It's hard to fool you."
Lucas felt a lump in his throat, lowering his voice in frustration, "Anson!"
Anson waved his hand. "Come on, give me some credit for trying to cheer you up."
Lucas didn't take his eyes off him.
Anson surrendered, muttering, "No sense of humor at all."
Before Lucas could protest, Anson quickly changed the subject.
"I really don't have any memories. That's the truth."
"The nightmares lurking? Also true."
"I don't know how to describe it. Even after you've said so much, I still don't feel anything. It's like none of it happened to me—those ten days are still a complete blank."
"It's just..."
"Sometimes, I feel this sudden panic, or unease, as if something unknown is chasing me in a dream."
"I can ignore it because it doesn't affect my daily life."
"But... I don't want to."
Anson paused, thought carefully, then nodded.
"Yeah, I don't want to."
In his previous life, he went through everything he should have and shouldn't have. He had struggled in the whirlpool of emotions and the waves of suffering for far too long.
This time, he didn't want to just take the hits, and he certainly didn't want to surrender.
Now, he was living in his dream life. He had family, friends, success, wealth, and most importantly, time. He refused to let nightmares and suffering consume him again. If he didn't fully enjoy life and make the most of his time, it would be a waste of his second chance.
So, he would rather waste time daydreaming than lose himself in the tangle of nightmares and pain.
Anson looked at Lucas, his expression still calm, but his eyes had changed.
They were deep and blue, like the ocean—clear yet unfathomable. Within those layers of light shone a steely determination, as if it could ignite the darkness.
The night stretched on endlessly, and in the fire of Anson's gaze, Lucas thought he saw a beast dancing—graceful and fierce.