Chapter 139: Asher Has Always Been My Salvation

Chapter 139: Chapter 139: Asher Has Always Been My Salvation

My mind went blank. I sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, a persistent ringing in my ears.

"Cece?"

"Silvia Lynch?"

I could hear Julian Fletcher calling my name, but I was completely disoriented.

I lurched to my feet, and the room spun around me.

"Cece?"

...

’I had a mental illness before I lost my memory?’

’Is this why I specifically forgot everything about the orphanage, and why I completely forgot Sebastian Lancaster?’

’What on earth happened?’

"Cece... Just forget. I don’t blame you. Just forget..."

"Don’t be afraid, Cece. I’ll always be by your side."

"If your life now makes things easier for you, then just forget me..."

"Cecilia Caldwell, what am I to you? Just something to be discarded by your memory?"

"Cecilia Caldwell... Don’t die. I’m begging you. Don’t make me inherit your memory—you know I won’t go on living alone."

A voice was always screaming, sobbing, and shouting in my head.

’Cece, don’t leave me behind.’

In a haze of consciousness, I felt like I was back in the moments before my death. I had escaped from Nocturne, my clothes in disarray, only to be cornered in an alley by a group of vagrants.

A tall, terrifying figure was there, wielding a club and bringing it down hard on those men, again and again.

"You touch her, you die."

"Don’t be afraid... I’m always here."

"Why did you forget me? Am I part of your painful memories, too? Cece..."

"I don’t blame you."

And there was the time I fainted in an alley from hypoglycemia, and the figure who covered me with his jacket, let me rest my head on his lap, and stayed with me all night.

Asher.

It was Asher!

The blurry silhouette slowly came into focus.

Asher stood in the dimness with his back to me.

He slowed to a stop and turned to look at me.

His face was streaked with tears, his hands dripping with blood.

His eyes were red-rimmed as he looked at me. "Cece... this world is so disgusting."

"Asher... Asher."

The moment he turned, a beam of light seemed to bloom before my eyes. He had always been my salvation. He might be a madman or a devil in the eyes of others, but to me, he was my savior.

My savior, and mine alone.

"Asher." In my memory, I was happily hugging Asher, placing his gift on the table. "This gift is from my mom. I picked out the clothes myself. Mom said you’re still growing, so we should get a size bigger."

"Asher, if you weren’t a genius, what would you want to do most?"

"Love you..."

’Even if you weren’t a genius, I’d still love you.’

’Even if you became a fool, I’d still love you.’

’I only love you.’

"You’re pregnant?" The doctor came to check on me and had a nurse prepare some glucose water for me. "You need to be more careful. Hormonal fluctuations during pregnancy can easily cause dizziness, but that might not be the primary cause. We’ll have to keep you under observation."

The doctor’s question pulled me back to reality.

Without realizing it, my tears had soaked the hair near my temples.

I was so desperate to remember the past, but just these few fragments of memories with Asher made my chest ache so much I could barely breathe.

In the treatment room, I asked quietly, "Doctor... is there any way to quickly restore someone’s memory?"

The doctor paused. "Amnesia? Have you suffered a serious injury in the past? I don’t see any history of major trauma in your chart."

At the doorway, Julian Fletcher, who was holding a cup of water, froze. He rushed over and knelt before me. "You’re Cece, aren’t you...?"

My gaze wavered as I looked at Julian Fletcher, my fists clenched so tight they went numb.

"Mr. Fletcher, I hear your mother is having you exorcised. It looks to me like you’re the one who’s gone completely insane," I said through gritted teeth, slapping his hand away. "Let’s not even get into whether or not I’m Cecilia Caldwell. Even if she were still alive, what makes you think any part of you would be worthy of a second glance from her?"

Julian Fletcher’s eyes grew red. "I can make it up to you. At least give me a chance..."

"You don’t deserve it..." I shoved him away, fighting back my rage, and started to walk out. "You’re nothing but a liar."

’I had imagined countless reasons why Julian Fletcher might not love me anymore. But I never, ever considered that I was the one with the jumbled memories. That I was the one who loved the wrong person. That I was the one who had been deceived.’

A fire of rage was building in my chest. I felt like I was going insane, my body trembling so violently I could barely walk.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. My heart, my mind—everything was filled with Asher.

He was standing in a backlit fog, looking back at me.

’How could you? Cecilia Caldwell, how could you forget him? How could you wipe him from your memory so completely? How could you just... fall into some angsty, tragic love affair with someone else as if it were the most natural thing in the world?’

’How could you...’

Sobbing, I ducked into the emergency stairwell, raised my hand, and slapped myself hard across the face.

"How could you..." I demanded of myself. "How can you not remember? How can you not remember!"

"AHH!" On the verge of a complete breakdown, I squatted in a corner, grabbing my hair and letting out a low growl. ’Why can’t I remember everything? Why did I have to forget Asher?’

’Why did I have to use Julian Fletcher as my anchor?’

’So, I deserve to die, don’t I?’

’Because I ’betrayed’ Asher.’

’So even if he were the one to kill me, I would have deserved it. I should be dead.’

’I deserve it!’

"Cece..."

There on the stairwell landing stood Asher, dressed in a patient’s gown, his fingers dripping with blood.

I looked up at him, but I couldn’t hold back my tears and immediately buried my head in my knees, sobbing.

"Are you going to leave me again...?" Asher asked, his voice hoarse as he came to a stop in front of me.

I looked up at him as if he were my god.

’He’s not a devil,’ I thought. ’He never was.’

"Sebastian Lancaster..." I reached out to him.

He grabbed my hand, his eyes filled with panic.

"You’re such a fool..." I said. ’What kind of genius acts like this?’

He reached out, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Yes, I’m a fool..."

’As long as Cece doesn’t leave me.’

"The nurse said you weren’t supposed to get out of bed," I said through my tears.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t listen," Asher apologized softly, each word like a balm on my frayed nerves. "Punish me..."

"Don’t leave me, don’t let him take you away, don’t believe him..."

"Did you pull out your IV to run over here?" I asked, frantically pressing down on the back of his still-bleeding hand as I wiped away my tears.

"It doesn’t hurt at all..." he murmured, wiping away my tears.

"You fool," I chided.

"Why are you crying?" Asher whispered, cupping my face in his hands. "Did he make you angry? I’ll kill him..."

I shook my head, sobbing. "Why can’t I remember? No matter what I do, I can’t remember..."

’Why, no matter how hard I try, can I only recall those tiny, fragmented memories?’

’Why did I have to forget Asher?’

I hated myself. I was consumed by self-blame.

Asher’s fingers tensed, their tips ice-cold against my skin. "Don’t try to remember... It’s better this way."

He lowered his head and gently kissed the tears at the corner of my eye.

His movements were feather-light, as if he were handling his most prized work of art...

Suddenly, I remembered the basement Lucas Grant had shown me, the one filled with glass display cases and taxidermied animals.

"Asher... why do you collect those dead animals? Did you... kill them?" I asked quietly.

A flicker of panic and evasion crossed Asher’s gaze.

I watched Asher nervously, terrified that he had really been the one to kill all the animals in those glass cases.

"No... Someone else gave them to me," Asher said, looking down and nervously pulling at his fingers.

I froze. ’Is he lying, or did a friend really give them to him?’

For some reason, the first person who came to mind was Charlie. He was wiped from my memory even more completely.

Judging from the photograph at Charlie’s sister’s place, the three of us must have been close—or at least close enough to take a picture together. But I have absolutely no memory of him.