Chapter 248: Room we left behind

I didn’t sleep that night.

Lena eventually stopped talking in her sleep. Her breathing returned to normal, and the tear on her cheek dried before she woke. I stayed beside the bed for a while, watching her, wondering what kind of memory could make someone cry without even realizing it.

Don’t leave him there.

Please... let him come home.

Who was she talking about?

And more importantly...

Who was the person she had forgotten?

I looked at the black card Daniel had given me. The message remained unchanged.

Ask her about the empty room.

I placed it on the bedside table.

Whatever this was, I needed to understand it before involving Lena any further.

But there was one problem.

I had no idea where to begin.

---

Morning arrived quietly.

Lena was already awake when I opened my eyes. She was sitting against the headboard, looking at me with a mildly suspicious expression.

"You’re staring."

I blinked.

"Good morning to you too."

"Good morning."

She smiled before looking at the clock.

"You didn’t sleep?"

"Not much."

"Why?"

I considered giving her a convenient excuse.

Unfortunately, she knew me too well.

"Something happened last night."

Her smile disappeared.

"What?"

I sat up.

"You were talking in your sleep."

She looked embarrassed.

"Did I say something weird?"

"Depends on your definition of weird."

"Adrian."

I smiled faintly.

"You said, ’Don’t leave him there.’"

Her expression changed.

"And then you said, ’Please let him come home.’"

Lena looked down at the blanket.

For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything.

"Do you remember saying it?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"Do you remember the dream?"

She thought about it.

"Not clearly."

Then she rubbed her forehead.

"I remember a room."

My attention immediately sharpened.

"What kind of room?"

"I don’t know."

She closed her eyes.

"It was small. There was a window, but I couldn’t see outside. The walls were white, and there was a chair near the door."

I remained quiet.

"Someone was sitting in the chair."

"Who?"

"I couldn’t see."

She opened her eyes.

"But I knew he was waiting."

My stomach tightened.

"Waiting for what?"

Lena shook her head.

"I don’t know."

She looked genuinely frustrated.

"Every time I try to remember his face, I see something else."

I glanced toward the bedside table.

The black card was still there.

Ask her about the empty room.

"Did the room feel familiar?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen it before?"

"I think so."

She looked at me.

"But not in real life."

I nodded slowly.

There was no point hiding the situation anymore.

"Lena, I think someone is trying to make you remember something."

Her expression became serious.

"Someone?"

"I don’t know who."

"Is this connected to the Archive?"

I hesitated.

"Probably."

She sighed.

"Of course it is."

I couldn’t help smiling.

"Sorry."

"Don’t apologize."

She reached for my hand.

"Just don’t decide what I should remember without asking me."

Her words caught me off guard.

I looked at her.

She continued.

"If there’s something connected to me, I want to know. But I don’t want you making decisions on my behalf because you’re afraid I’ll get hurt."

I squeezed her hand.

"You’re right."

"And don’t give me that expression."

"What expression?"

"The one where you’re already planning to investigate everything without telling me."

I looked away.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Adrian."

"...I haven’t planned anything."

"Yet."

I laughed quietly.

"Fine."

We agreed to contact the others after breakfast.

But before I could get out of bed, Lena spoke again.

"There’s something else."

I turned.

"What?"

She hesitated.

"When I heard the name Aeris yesterday, I felt like I was remembering someone else’s sadness."

I frowned.

"Someone else’s?"

"Yes."

She looked toward the window.

"Not mine. Not yours either."

Her voice became quieter.

"It felt like I was standing beside someone who had been waiting for a very long time."

I didn’t know what to say.

Then she looked back at me.

"Do you think that person is still waiting?"

I remembered the unknown messages.

The Reader.

The empty room.

The warning not to take Lena there.

"I don’t know."

It was the only honest answer I had.

---

After breakfast, I called Daniel.

He answered on the fourth ring.

"You’re calling early."

"It’s nearly ten."

"Exactly."

I ignored him.

"I need to ask you something."

His voice immediately became more attentive.

"What happened?"

I explained what Lena had told me.

The room.

The person in the chair.

The words she’d spoken while sleeping.

Daniel remained silent until I finished.

Then he asked,

"Did you show her the card?"

"No."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because the message might be directing you toward a specific memory."

He paused.

"And if the Reader is involved, we shouldn’t assume every clue is meant to help us."

I glanced at Lena.

She was sitting at the dining table, reading something on her phone.

"Do you know anything about the room?"

"No."

"Can you find out?"

"I can try."

"Daniel."

"Yes?"

"I don’t want Lena dragged into this."

He sighed.

"I understand."

"But you also need to understand that the Reader has already contacted her. Pretending she isn’t involved won’t protect her."

I rubbed my forehead.

"I know."

"Come to the old café this afternoon."

"Bring Lena if she wants to come."

"Why?"

"Because there’s someone I’d like you both to meet."

I frowned.

"Who?"

Daniel paused.

"Someone who remembers the Archive differently."

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

That was becoming an irritating habit.

Everyone seemed to know something except me.

---

The café was relatively quiet when we arrived.

Daniel was already seated near the window. A cup of coffee rested in front of him, untouched.

Beside him sat an elderly woman.

She looked to be in her late sixties, perhaps older. Her grey hair was tied neatly behind her head, and a pair of reading glasses rested on the bridge of her nose.

She was examining a small photograph.

Daniel stood when he noticed us.

"Adrian. Lena."

I greeted him before looking toward the woman.

"Who’s this?"

"Mrs. Evelyn Moore."

The woman smiled politely.

"Please, sit down."

Lena took the seat beside me.

Daniel introduced us.

"Mrs. Moore used to work at the old Eastbridge Records Office."

"Before it became part of the city archives," she added.

I nodded.

"What does that have to do with the room?"

Mrs. Moore placed the photograph on the table.

It showed a small white room.

A wooden chair stood near the door.

A narrow window occupied the opposite wall.

My stomach tightened.

It was exactly as Lena had described.

"Where did you get this?"

"From an old collection of photographs that were scheduled for disposal."

Mrs. Moore adjusted her glasses.

"I recognized the room immediately."

"Why?"

"Because I used to visit it."

Lena leaned forward.

"Do you remember who was inside?"

The old woman looked at her.

For a moment, her expression became strangely distant.

"Sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"I remember the room."

"I remember the chair."

"I remember someone sitting there."

She looked down at the photograph.

"But I cannot remember his face."

I exchanged a glance with Lena.

Mrs. Moore continued.

"That room wasn’t part of the official records office. It was somewhere beneath the building."

"An underground room?"

"Not exactly."

She frowned.

"More like a room that appeared when someone needed it."

Daniel looked at me.

I understood his expression.

Another impossible location.

Mrs. Moore reached into her handbag and removed a folded sheet of paper.

"This was written on the back of the photograph."

She passed it to me.

The handwriting was faint, but the words were clear.

Please don’t let him wait alone.

Lena went completely still.

I looked at her.

"Is that what you remember?"

She nodded slowly.

"That’s it."

Her fingers moved toward the photograph.

"That’s the room."

Mrs. Moore watched her carefully.

"Have you been there?"

Lena shook her head.

"Not that I remember."

The old woman studied her for a long moment.

Then she asked something that made my blood run cold.

"Did he call you by another name?"

Lena’s eyes widened.

"...Yes."

Mrs. Moore closed her eyes.

For several seconds, she didn’t speak.

When she finally opened them, she looked directly at Lena.

"He used to call you Elara."

The name settled over the table.

Lena repeated it quietly.

"Elara."

Then she shook her head.

"I’ve never heard that name before."

Mrs. Moore nodded.

"I know."

She looked toward the photograph.

"That’s what you said the last time too."

My heartbeat quickened.

"The last time?"

The old woman looked at me.

"You were there."

I stared at her.

"What?"

She pointed toward the empty chair opposite us.

"Both of you."

I slowly turned toward the chair.

For a brief moment, I thought I saw someone sitting there.

A young man.

Dark hair.

His hands resting quietly on his knees.

Then a waiter passed between us.

The chair was empty again.

I looked back at Mrs. Moore.

"When did this happen?"

She considered the question.

"Long before you met each other."

Lena’s hand found mine beneath the table.

Mrs. Moore continued.

"You came into that room together. You were arguing about something, though I don’t remember what."

She smiled faintly.

"You looked exhausted."

Then her expression became sad.

"You asked me to keep the door closed."

I swallowed.

"Why?"

"Because one of you wasn’t ready to leave."

Lena looked at the photograph again.

"Who?"

Mrs. Moore didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned the photograph over.

A new line had appeared beneath the old message.

Fresh black ink.

The room is still waiting.

Daniel stood immediately.

"That’s enough."

He took the photograph from the table.

"We need to leave."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

He showed me the back.

The writing was changing.

Letters appeared one after another.

ELARA, COME HOME.

Lena pulled her hand away from mine.

Not because she wanted to leave.

Because something had just caught her attention.

She was staring at the empty chair.

Her lips parted.

Then she whispered,

"I remember."

I turned toward her.

"What?"

She wasn’t looking at me.

Her eyes were fixed on the space across the table.

"I remember who was sitting there."

The café seemed to grow quieter.

Daniel stepped closer.

"Lena, don’t force it."

She shook her head.

"No."

Her voice trembled.

"He wasn’t waiting for me."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"He was waiting for Adrian."

My chest tightened.

I looked at the empty chair again.

And this time, I heard it.

A quiet voice.

So familiar that it made my skin crawl.

"You’re late."

My phone vibrated.

One message.

No sender.

The door is open.

A second message followed.

This time, bring them both.

I slowly looked toward Lena.

She was still staring at the empty chair.

Then she turned to me.

For the first time since we’d met, I saw something in her expression that I couldn’t explain.

Recognition.

Not of the room.

Not of the name.

Of someone she had once loved enough to wait for.

"Adrian..."

She whispered.

"I think I remember him."

And somewhere beneath the old records office, a door that had remained closed for years finally opened.