Blake froze completely.
For a mont, he genuinely wondered if he had heard wrong.
’Woah now... what?’
His face slowly lost color, the hallway suddenly starting to feel colder.
"He doesn’t rember. For so reason, he isn’t the sa."
The doctor’s voice echoed inside his head again.
Again.
And again.
Blake’s fingers twitched faintly at his side.
’No way. No, seriously, how exactly did they even arrive at that conclusion? That I’m not the sa?!’
Sure, he didn’t think he was doing so incredible acting performance as Blake, but it shouldn’t have been that bad, right?
He was simply more outspoken, less quiet and well, not suicidal! He simply cared about his rights as a human!
Wouldn’t most people just think he was finally opening up a little after spending ti working on himself?
Or maybe that he changed after whatever happened to him, if they at least believed he went through sothing?
His breathing slowed carefully, keeping his voice below a whisper.
"I’ll sneak for my lover."
He carefully stepped closer to the door. Inside, the doctor say on the sofa and, seated across from him, was his stepmother.
The mont Blake saw her, sothing inside his chest tightened slightly.
"...I already told you about that day."
Her voice reached him clearly through the crack in the door.
It wasn’t particularly cold, actually, she sounded troubled, even frowning.
"That was when everything about him started seeming different."
The doctor stayed quiet for a mont, then, he sighed softly.
"You all made a mistake by pushing him so suddenly."
"...."
"But you already know that much."
Blake frowned slightly.
’Pushing him out? Yeah, I thought Blake was just disliked from the very starts though?’
His stepmother wrapped a hand around her chin.
"It could never hurt him as much as it hurts us."
Her voice lowered after that, almost bitterly.
"He’ll never understand."
A pause followed.
"Even now, he never really changed in that aspect."
Blake’s frown deepened imdiately.
Now this, this was genuinely irritating. No, worse than irritating, it was downright unnerving.
What suffering were they even talking about?
The original Blake was dead.
Dead!
He killed himself.
Whatever happened in this family had already escalated to the point where soone literally succeeded in a suicide attempt!
Blake lowered his gaze slightly.
For a brief second, everything around him almost seed white, that sa strange pressure from earlier starting to press against his head.
Then the doctor spoke once more.
"At this point, I suspect so kind of ntal disorder."
That instantly snapped Blake back.
He stared ahead blankly, completely unimpressed.
’Alright, man...’
Him naturally changing apparently wasn’t believable enough for them.
No.
Clearly, it made more sense that he had suddenly beco ntally incapacitated sohow.
Honestly, the logic made absolutely no sense to him.
Still, after a second, he simply sighed quietly.
’Seriously... why am I even worried?’
These people weren’t his family.
He didn’t know them, and they certainly didn’t know him.
The stepmother frowned harder.
"That’s impossible."
Then, after a short pause:
"...Or is it?"
Her expression tightened slightly.
"Why would he suddenly say things like that?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses.
"He lied to multiple tis during our conversation."
Blake blinked once.
’Did I lie? I’m pretty sure I didn’t...’
The older man continued calmly.
"And not about aningful things."
"Like what?"
"His interests. His preferences." The doctor paused. "Even his favorite flowers."
Blake silently looked away.
’Ah, that... sorry dude, that is fair enough.’
That one was on him, he genuinely just didn’t know enough details about the original Blake.
He knew broad things.
Things he had observed within his living space, for example video gas or hero novels.
Ironically enough, stories with isekai elents too.
But favorite flowers?
How was he supposed to know sothing that specific?
At that point, maybe he really should’ve just ntioned gas and books instead.
’Still, how exactly did that leap straight to ntal illness?’
His stepmother’s expression suddenly sharpened.
"He shouldn’t be appearing out of nowhere right now."
Her voice beca colder.
"He has no right to do this."
Blake stared toward the room silently.
Then she rubbed her forehead tightly.
"He should’ve stayed out of the way, especially now...!"
Her breathing beca uneven for a second.
"He definitely did that on purpose to—!"
Suddenly, Blake’s vision blurred.
His pupils trembled faintly.
He felt soone grabbing his shoulders, and e sensation ca so suddenly it made his chest tighten painfully.
Those were warm hands, that were so familiar atmosphere, having slightly.
His breathing almost faltered.
That strange anguish from earlier returned without warning. Sad enough to make his chest hurt.
Blake frowned harder.
’...Tch.’
What even was this feeling? Why did it keep happening?
For so reason, hearing his stepmother’s voice made that pressure inside him worse.
Like there was sothing buried underneath his skin trying to claw its way out.
Still, Blake simply sighed. Honestly, these people were all insane.
They talked about Blake like he was so horrible inconvenience while simultaneously acting as though they were the victims.
What exactly did they expect from him?
From the original Blake.
Or even from him now.
Neither version had been treated properly anyway.
The original one died.
And the current one had bullets bounced off his body while risking his life in infiltrations.
Amazing family environnt all around.
Blake looked down quietly. Then, his gaze slowly darkened.
’Actually...’
The original Blake probably suffered way more than they realized.
No, maybe they realized it perfectly well and simply ignored it. And that possibility annoyed him even more.
Inside the room, the doctor sighed quietly.
"I’m not saying he’s dangerous."
"That would never happen!," the stepmother replied imdiately.
When she finally spoke again, her voice sounded quieter.
"As I told you already, he looked at differently."
Blake’s eyes narrowed faintly.
Differently?
"What do you an?" the doctor asked.
"He looked..." She paused. "Odd."
Odd.
Blake almost laughed. Well, what exactly did she expect?
The doctor remained thoughtful.
"That may support mory-related issues."
"And if it isn’t mory?"
The older man stayed silent briefly.
Then:
"Then his personality has fundantally shifted."
Blake stared blankly at the floor.
Fundantally shifted.
Well, that part was technically true.
The stepmother suddenly stood up from her chair.
"No. That doesn’t make sense."
The doctor calmly looked at her.
"Not like this."
Her reply ca imdiately.
"Not him."
Blake frowned faintly again.
Seriously, how exactly was the original Blake before all this?
Because from the way they spoke, it almost sounded like he had been emotionally chained to this family sohow.
Like every tiny shift imdiately stood out.
Then again, maybe that made sense.
If the original Blake really had isolated himself emotionally for years, even minor changes would probably look obvious.
’Still... ntal illness? For a second, I even thought he was qualified enough!’
Blake leaned slightly closer to the door unconsciously.
The doctor crossed his arms.
"He hesitated multiple tis before answering simple questions."
’Because I don’t know the fuckin’ flowers.’
"He also looked confused when speaking to ."
’Because apparently an 18-year-old and an adult are way closer than I expected...’
"And his emotional reactions seem... delayed."
Blake’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
Okay, now he was just getting analyzed like so kind of patient in a psychology lecture.
The stepmother lowered her gaze.
"...Could it be amnesia?"
"I don’t know, I have so options in mind."
Blake almost rolled his eyes.
At this point, maybe he should just pretend he hit his head sowhere.
Would that make things easier? No, actually, that would probably make things infinitely worse.
They’d monitor him constantly afterward.
His head suddenly throbbed again.
Blake pressed lightly against the wall beside him.
For so reason, hearing all this felt deeply uncomfortable.
Not because they suspected him, but becase they kept talking like the original Blake was still there sowhere.
As though he could still co back.
’You can’t even see your own son is dead.’
That feeling in his chest tightened again.
When he carefully looked through the crack in the door, her face still remained cold.
Only her hands trembled faintly.
Blake stared silently, then his vision blurred again.
For one horrifying second, he felt those invisible hands gripping his shoulders tighter.
A voice echoed faintly sowhere inside his head.
Not audible enough to understand.
Blake imdiately frowned.
’Enough already.’
Honestly, these weird emotional flashes were becoming annoying.
His chest hurt, his head hurt, and none of it even belonged to him.
’Deactivate skill.’
After another few seconds of silence, Blake finally sighed. Then he raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Knock knock.
The conversation inside stopped imdiately.
A few seconds later, footsteps approached.
The doctor opened the door.
The mont he saw Blake standing there, his expression visibly changed.
There was clear caution in his eyes now.
Like he expected Blake to suddenly break down emotionally.
Blake looked at him quietly.
’Don’t worry,’ he thought flatly. ’That’s definitely not happening.’
Smiling, he held out his opened hand.
"I need the pomade."
The doctor stared at him silently for a second before reaching into his coat pocket.
Then he handed the tal container over without a word.
"Thank you."
Blake accepted it calmly.
For a brief mont, silence filled the hallway.
Then Blake slowly lifted his gaze, and looked directly toward his stepmother.
Right into her eyes.
She looked frozen in place, her old expression intact.
Yet sohow, it genuinely looked like she was on the verge of tears.
Blake couldn’t understand her at all.
Not even a little.
Why did the original Blake end up dead?
Still, Blake said nothing, he simply turned around and walked away.
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