The world felt wrong.
Not broken—worse.
Sterile. Silent. Soulless.
Moneytory wandered streets that shimmered under violet-tinted artificial skies.
People moved like clockwork, speaking in clipped, mechanical tones.
No laughter.
No arguments.
No life.
This wasn’t dystopia.
This was something worse: perfect efficiency.
A thought pulled him toward a massive building at the heart of the city.
An old structure, weathered stone and timber, completely out of place among the sleek metal towers.
It hummed, faint and sad, like a forgotten melody.
Over the door, carved into ancient oak:
"Archives of Lost Emotion."
Inside, it smelled of dust, leather, and something sweeter—like the memory of rain after a drought.
Rows of forgotten memories stretched into the dimness.
Thought orbs, sealed in crystal jars, glowed faintly on endless shelves.
And there, at a lone table by a cracked window, sat a woman.
Silver light framed her profile.
Short hair. Grey sweater. A familiar way of turning a page—
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
as if savoring every moment, even in a world that no longer did.
Moneytory stopped breathing for a second.
"Haejin...?"
The name broke out of him before he could stop it.
She didn’t look up immediately.
When she did, it wasn’t recognition in her eyes—
but a strange melancholy, like someone staring into a photograph of a life they had never lived.
"Hello," she said softly.
"You seem... familiar."
It hit him harder than any physical blow.
She didn’t remember.
Of course she didn’t.
In this world, feelings were noise—something to be filtered, archived, forgotten.
Still, he sat across from her.
No words.
Just presence.
Minutes—or maybe hours—passed.
Finally, she spoke:
"In this city... we keep emotions here. Locked away.
They're... inconvenient."
She gestured around at the glowing orbs.
Moneytory reached into his coat, fingers brushing against something warm.
The memory shard he’d carried since the past:
That fleeting moment of laughter he had once shared with her, long ago.
Before regret.
Before distance.
He placed it gently on the table between them.
It pulsed faintly.
Not bright.
Not demanding.
Just... patient.
Waiting for her.
Her hand hovered over it.
"What... is this?"
"You," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Us."
Her fingers brushed the orb.
The instant she touched it, a jolt ran through the air.
Her face tightened, eyes fluttered—
—and suddenly the dam broke.
Memories cascaded into her.
A park bench.
Cherry blossoms.
A clumsy confession.
A hand she wished he'd grabbed.
A path they never walked.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
She clutched the orb to her chest and let out a broken laugh.
"You idiot," she whispered, voice trembling.
"You should have said something sooner."
Moneytory swallowed hard.
The weight in his chest lightened, but didn't disappear.
It just changed shape.
"I’m here now."
but for the first time in a long time,
something stirred.**
Something alive.
To be continued...