’Huh, how did I get ho yesterday...?’
’No, did I even go ho?’
"Sister? Are you okay?"
"Ah, yes. I was a little dazed and didn’t hear you. Don’t worry. I’ll definitely find your parents."
That was right. Lena didn’t go ho yesterday.
She had been looking for this child’s parents after he said he got separated from them and lost his way in the park yesterday.
It was fine since she was a superhuman, but she couldn’t keep dragging a child around, so she needed to rest.
"Aren’t you tired?"
"No, I’m fine."
He was a good kid, not showing his fatigue even though he must be tired.
She thought he only resembled her brother’s looks, but he was just like her brother in this aspect too.
She used to take care of him because of this side of him too.
’...Him?’
The image of soone surfaced in her hazy mind, fragnted and disappearing.
’No.’
But that disappearing sensation was strangely unpleasant, so she forcibly held onto the fragnt of mory that was trying to disappear.
’Don’t run away.’
’You can’t go.’
’You’re mine. Don’t run away.’
The hazy mory beca clearer, and the fragnted image, like a mosaic, gradually regained its original form.
Black hair and red eyes.
The image of a boy with a constantly sullen expression gradually surfaced in her mind.
Evans OO.
A na with a part she couldn’t rember ca to her mind.
"Si-sister?"
"Yes?"
Ah, the mont she answered, the mory she had been trying so hard to recall scattered again.
But it was okay.
Evans OO.
Since she hadn’t completely forgotten, she would rember it again.
It was enough that she recalled one part of his na for now.
She would find this child’s parents and slowly recall it.
Lena gently exhaled and looked down at the child standing beside her.
His small hand was still gripping the edge of her sleeve, careful and polite, as if afraid she might disappear if he let go.
"It’ll be okay," she said again, softer this ti.
The child nodded, though his eyes wandered around the park, unease flickering across his face before he quickly hid it.
They began walking slowly along the paved path, retracing the places he rembered visiting with his parents. Lena scanned the surroundings while keeping her pace deliberately slow, matching his shorter steps.
People passed by occasionally—families, couples, joggers—but none stopped, and none looked familiar to the child.
"...They were right here," he said after a while, pointing toward a bench beneath a large tree. "I was watching the pigeons."
Lena followed his gaze.
The bench was empty now, sunlight filtering through the leaves above it.
"I see," she replied. "Let’s look around nearby."
As they moved closer, a faint ache pulsed behind her eyes.
Again.
That strange sensation—as if sothing important was brushing against her consciousness, just out of reach.
Evans.
The na echoed faintly, like a sound heard underwater.
Her steps slowed for a brief mont.
’Why does that na feel so heavy?’
She pressed a hand against her temple, steadying herself before the discomfort could deepen.
"Sister?" the child asked, tilting his head. "Are you dizzy again?"
"I’m fine," Lena said imdiately, lowering her hand. She offered a small smile to reassure him. "Just thinking."
The ache receded, but the unease lingered.
She glanced down at the child once more.
For so reason, the way he stood there—quiet, patient, pretending not to be scared—made her chest tighten.
’I won’t lose you,’ she thought, though she didn’t know who the words were ant for.
"Let’s keep looking," Lena said.
And as they walked on, the forgotten na lingered at the edge of her mind, waiting for the mont she was ready to rember the rest of it.
They circled the bench once, then twice.
Nothing.
The pigeons had long since flown off, and the laughter that must have filled this place yesterday was nowhere to be found. Only the rustling leaves and distant chatter remained.
Lena crouched down in front of the child.
"Do you rember anything else?" she asked gently. "Even sothing small is fine."
He hesitated, fingers tightening around her sleeve again.
"...My mom bought ice cream," he said after a mont. "Vanilla. It lted really fast."
Lena smiled faintly.
"Then there’s probably a shop nearby," she said. "Let’s try looking for it."
They headed toward the park’s main path, where food carts and small stalls lined the walkway. The scent of sugar and fried dough lingered in the air.
As they passed an ice cream stand, the child stopped abruptly.
His grip tightened.
"This—this is it," he said quietly. "We were here."
Lena followed his gaze.
The vendor was different, and the nu board had changed, but the location matched. She felt a subtle pulse run through her body, her senses instinctively sharpening.
She scanned the area.
No frantic parents.
No familiar faces.
Only strangers passing by, absorbed in their own worlds.
"...They were right behind ," the child murmured. "I turned around, and they were gone."
Lena straightened slowly.
That hollow ache returned, sharper this ti, stabbing behind her eyes.
Lost.
Separated.
Gone.
Images flickered at the edge of her vision—an outstretched hand, red eyes widened in panic, a voice calling her na.
Her breath hitched.
’Evans...’
The na surfaced again, stronger than before.
Her heart pounded.
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, grounding herself.
Not now.
She couldn’t afford to lose focus.
She looked down at the child.
"Listen to ," she said firmly, though her voice remained warm. "I promise I won’t leave you alone. We’ll find them."
The child looked up at her, eyes shining.
"...Really?"
"Really."
He nodded, trusting her without hesitation.
Sothing inside her twisted painfully.
She straightened and took his hand properly this ti, no longer letting him cling to her sleeve as if she might vanish.
"Let’s ask the staff," Lena said. "Soone might have seen them."
They approached the ice cream vendor, and Lena briefly explained the situation. The man frowned, shaking his head apologetically.
"I didn’t see anything," he said. "But you should try the park office. Lost kids usually get reported there."
Lena thanked him and turned away.
The park office.
That sounded right.
As they walked, the ache in her head dulled into a steady pressure, as if sothing was aligning, piece by piece.
Evans.
Black hair.
Red eyes.
A boy who hated smiling.
Her pace slowed.
A sudden fear crept into her chest—not for the child beside her, but for the mory clawing its way back to the surface.
’If I rember...’
She didn’t finish the thought.
Instead, she tightened her grip on the child’s hand.
Whatever she had forgotten, whatever na she had buried—
She would face it after this.
For now, she was here.
And she wasn’t letting go.
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