I have a life simulator.

Wait, now you realize that if your deduction is correct, then you slept in the same bed with a complete stranger last night, and this is very likely her home, and you are her lover?

After all, at this moment you've noticed that you're wearing nothing but boxer shorts; appearing in bed with a stranger dressed like that, you can hardly think of any other possibility.

You touched your forehead, feeling a bit of a headache. On the ring finger of your right hand, you were wearing a diamond ring, its size perfectly matching your finger, looking as if it belonged to you. But you had no memory of being engaged to or even married to anyone.

Rather, it's more like, who would marry a sixteen-year-old high school freshman? It's illegal, isn't it?

You look at the ring that is shining on your ring finger with a touch of melancholy, thinking that it might have belonged to the husband of the lady of the house. That poor man is probably either away on a business trip or has already died, and then it was put on your finger by a person named Ichinose Honami.

It seems there really is such an exciting way to play?

You feel you need to leave. Perhaps her husband has just finished working overtime and is on his way home, still feeling groggy and like he's drunk.

You didn't even bother to put on the black slippers by the bed. You tiptoed to the door and suddenly noticed a mirror embedded there.

You haven't even had time to think about why someone would put a mirror on their door, because your entire attention is drawn to the image in the mirror.

The face in the mirror isn't your own. You open your eyes wide, and the person in the mirror opens their eyes wide too. You blink your left eye, and the person in the mirror blinks their left eye as well.

You reach out to touch your reflection in the mirror, your teeth grinding together. If you weren't trying not to disturb anyone, you might be screaming right now. You slam into the mirror, those dark eyes almost touching your retina.

[You recognized them. These are your eyes, and the person in the mirror is indeed you, but you look much more mature, like you've aged five or ten years in an instant? Your mustache is neatly trimmed, your nose is high and your eyes are bright. Your face is much more defined than before. The good news is, you're still quite handsome.]

But this piece of good news couldn't dispel your panic. No one would wake up one day to find themselves several years older and remain calm. You took a step back in alarm, then turned the doorknob without hesitation and walked outside.

When you look in the mirror, you can feel something terrible trying to break free from your body, as if it wants to burst out and form a new body on its own; it's stirring restlessly.

Upon opening the door, you see a wall filled with dozens of photographs. These photos appear to be quite old, most of them having a faint yellow tinge. The largest photo in the center is a wedding portrait.

The man in the photo is you, a few years younger than your current body, a few years older than your memories.

[The beautiful woman in the photo, smiling and holding your hand, has long, flowing golden-pink hair that cascades down to her waist. She wears no veil, and her white Western-style wedding dress trails at her feet. Her smile is sweet and happy; just looking at this photo, you can't help but feel that she must have been the most eye-catching person at the wedding.]

【Kitagawa Ryo. 】

On the left side of the wedding photo, a name was written in black marker, with an arrow pointing to the man—you, dressed in a suit. The name seemed familiar, yet the memory was hazy; you tried hard to believe it was your name.

【Ichinose Honami. 】

The name reappeared, accompanied by the same arrow pointing to the woman in the wedding dress. Unlike the name "Kitagawa Ryo," this name had a line of smaller text below it:

Your girlfriend, your lover, your wife.

You stood there, stunned, something dark and solidified choking you, making it hard to breathe.

You quickly scanned the other photos; every single one was a picture of you and her, from childhood to adolescence and now, around your early twenties. There were photos of you holding hands in front of a large rock in a park, photos of you hiking together, photos of you both in wedding attire, and some that looked brand new, taken in the last few days. The black nightgown you saw when you woke up was neatly worn on you.

You took two steps back until your bare back pressed against the cold tiles. Memory was like a giant beast emerging from the dark sea, its eye piercing your gaze. You were bewildered and helpless under its watchful eye. That long blank was like an empty cassette tape, which, when played back, would appear as a bizarre black and white illusion on the television screen.

"Liang, are you awake?"

You hear footsteps approaching. You want to peek out, just a quick glance, as if afraid of seeing something yet also afraid of seeing nothing at all. Sure enough, all you see is a wisp of hair swaying in the air.

The woman walking towards them was indeed the person in the photograph. If the photograph and the book's title were correct, then the beautiful woman in front of them, wearing a pink apron and with her hair tied in a simple ponytail, was Ichinose Honami.

Her azure eyes were now fixed on you with concern. She was probably around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, in one of the most beautiful years of a woman's life. She seemed to sense your fear and anxiety, and naturally stepped forward to embrace you, gently patting your back as if comforting a child who had just woken from a nightmare, and whispered in your ear:

"It's okay, I'm here with you."

"What's going on?" A warm body enveloped you. A soft touch, a delicate fragrance. It took you a long time to realize you were being held in her arms. Her long hair blocked your view, and you caught the scent of green citrus.

"I am your wife, you are Kitagawa Ryo, and you are my husband, Ichinose Honami."

She spoke as if stating a given fact, her tone extremely natural and practiced, as if she had said it a thousand times.

"We've been married for three years."

This fact, which doesn't even exist in your memory, is violently assaulting your defenses. Instinctively, you struggle to break free from her embrace.

But Honami Ichinose only looked at you with her eyes. At that moment, you seemed to become a wound on her body. Every time you moved, she felt excruciating pain. You had no choice but to give up struggling and let your whole body, even every pore, sink deeper into her embrace.

"Liang, you're twenty-three years old now." This strange woman smiled at you. You didn't know whether you should believe her, but she continued speaking:

"You were in an accident when you were sixteen, a car crash, and you injured your head, so you can't remember anything now."

"What?" You stared blankly at her and murmured unconsciously.

Honami Ichinose seemed to think you were asking about which memories she had lost, and she cautiously replied:

"You remember nothing about anything, not even your name."

You closed your eyes, wanting to subconsciously deny her words, but you truly couldn't recall anything about yourself. You only remembered that you were sixteen years old this year, a high school student...

"I had the accident when I was sixteen?"

"Yes, when you were sixteen, you went out with your uncle and aunt and got into a car accident. Although you survived, you lost your memory."

She seemed reluctant to talk about it, but still patiently explained:

“At first it was just a little bit, and we all thought it was because of the brain’s emergency protection mechanism, making you forget the incident, which might make you feel better. But then you started to have large blocks of amnesia. About a month after our wedding, you had completely lost all your memories.”

"What's worse is that you no longer even have the ability to retain memories. Every morning when you wake up, you forget everything, including me."

She patted your head, and the gesture felt strangely familiar. You processed her words and then asked:

"Then why did you marry someone with amnesia?"

"because I love you."

Honami Ichinose's lips touched your forehead. She must have just been making breakfast in the kitchen. It was a kiss with a hint of buttery aroma, which you didn't dislike.

【"I……"

"Don't be afraid, I'm here. As long as I'm here, Liang will remember everything one day."

Seeing that you were still naked, she went into the room and handed you the black nightgown and slippers that were hanging there.

"Believe me."】

Feeling somewhat reassured by the woman's promise, you put on your clothes and followed her out of the corridor, like a stranger showing a house to a landlord. She pointed to a small room on your right:

"Wash up there, breakfast will have to wait a while, darling."

You didn't know how to respond. Should you call her "darling" too? Or call her by her name? You felt you couldn't act that way towards a woman you'd just met, so you simply nodded and went into the room.

Entering the bathroom, you see a perfect pair of toothbrushes and toothpaste cups on the sink, their sky blue and pink hues complementing each other. The small cabinet next to the mirror is crammed with all sorts of cosmetics. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you still feel incredibly unfamiliar.

"Brush your teeth for a full two minutes, okay?" Ichinose Honami's voice came from outside. You quickly replied, somewhat reservedly picking up the sky-blue toothbrush cup, stiffly squeezing toothpaste onto the toothbrush, and mechanically beginning to brush your teeth. But after only a minute, you had already switched the hand holding the toothbrush to your left, and your right hand slowly took the slipper from your right foot.

From the moment you put on these slippers, you noticed that the right slipper was slightly heavier than the left. You carefully ran your fingers along the tread pattern on the sole of the slipper and quickly spotted a noticeable bulge. Using the blade of the razor on the sink, you sliced ​​it open, revealing a small box made of some unknown material.

You quietly closed the bathroom door and slowly disassembled the delicate little gadget. You had a feeling that this thing would answer some of your questions.

There are three slips of paper in this box. You begin to read them one by one.

[The first image reads: "If you have any questions, please call the phone number of psychologist Arisu Sakayanagi," followed by a list of contact details.]

[The second image: "Meow meow meow meow," a phrase with no clear meaning. You're not sure if it's some kind of strange code. It's signed "Ying."]

"Ryo, breakfast is ready! Today it's butter and cheese toast and fried bacon, ham, and eggs," came Ichinose Honami's voice. She seemed to be in a good mood, humming an unknown tune.

You unfolded the third note; it bore handwriting you recognized most.

"Don't believe anything Ichinose Honami says. Signed—Kitagawa Ryo."

Chapter Twenty-Six: Entering the Dream

[You casually tossed three notes into the toilet, after memorizing their contents, of course. You then pretended to use the toilet, flushed, and watched as they were flung into a massive centrifugal vortex and vanished without a trace.]

When you came out of the bathroom, Honami Ichinose was already sitting at the dining table in the living room. She seemed to be admiring a photo album, her smile both gentle and beautiful. After taking off her apron, she was wearing only a loose-fitting nightgown, a pale purple color, just like you. You felt a little out of place.

【"cold."

As soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, you immediately felt her gaze fixed on you. Ichinose Honami stood up and pulled you to sit opposite her. Her light purple bathrobe was just the right length to cover her hips, and she was wearing bare legs and pink slippers.

She sat there and untied her hair tie, letting her long, golden-pink hair cascade down to her waist like a waterfall, with strands falling over her shoulders, adding a touch of allure. She propped her head up with her right hand, playing with the ends of her hair, as if watching you eat first.

You slowly begin to eat the breakfast in front of you, which doesn't look too bad. Perfectly fried eggs and ham paired with crispy bacon. You try to focus all your attention on the food, keeping your head down to avoid looking at Ichinose Honami sitting opposite you. But after half an hour, your empty plate is completely devoid of food. You can only look up at Ichinose Honami; she seems to be eating even faster than you, because you meet her smiling eyes.

Honami Ichinose stood up and cleared the table. As she passed you, she handed you the photo album she had been looking at, and as she turned to the first page, she introduced it to you:

"This was found when I was cleaning your room back then; it might remind you of something."

Unlike the photos you see on that wall, this album contains many solo and family photos of you. However, even in these photos where you are the main subject, you can find Ichinose Honami in many of them. It seems that she was indeed quite close to you when you were young, and could even be included in your own family photos. Your fingers trace the men and women in the photos, trying to connect them with your parents.

"This photo album probably contains all the photos from before you were sixteen." As you flipped through half of the album, Honami Ichinose had already tidied everything up and was standing behind you. Her slender arm encircled your neck, her delicate chin resting on your shoulder, as she softly introduced the album.

She pointed to the photos and explained:

"This is the hair clip you gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It was all the rage back then, and I remember it cost over five figures."

Honami Ichinose happily tapped the photo album with her finger, gently massaging your temples with her left hand:

"But some idiot, wanting to surprise me, secretly went to work for someone else, standing on the street handing out flyers in the sweltering summer heat wearing one of those thick, plush mascot costumes." Her breath was sweet and fragrant in your ear.

"Fool."】

Looking at the photo of yourself putting a hair clip on a girl, you vaguely recall the hair clip... you seem to have some recollection of it, but, but...

Memories at this moment are like empty gums; when you try not to think about them, there's an itch that scratches your heart and lungs, but when you actually try to touch them, there's only an empty pain.

You shook your head, dismissing the painful thought, and randomly picked a topic:

When did we start dating?

"On my thirteenth birthday, I realized that tomorrow would be our tenth anniversary."

Honami Ichinose answered quickly, and she walked into the room with great momentum, returning shortly afterward with a glass frame.

"I still keep the love letter Liang wrote to me back then; it's a testament to our happiness."

But then she sighed, pouted, and muttered:

"Liang wrote me a love letter that was several pages long back then, but unfortunately I lost a lot of them when I moved, and this is the only one left."

[You placed this glass frame on the clean dining table. Inside was an open letter. Thanks to the relatively good preservation, the handwriting wasn't too badly blurred. Reflecting on Ichinose Honami's description of being thirteen, the handwriting in this love letter was quite childish. There weren't any particularly noteworthy sentences; it was simply a recollection of their past together, ending with a simple statement like "I like you."]

"Looking back now, I feel a little embarrassed, but back then, Ryo probably never imagined that we would be married for three years ten years later."

Honami Ichinose, sitting close to you, leaned on your shoulder and murmured to herself as if lost in reminiscence.

"No matter what Liang's memories are like, I will always remember the memories Liang left me."

"Oh, it's time." Honami Ichinose glanced at her watch; her wedding ring on her ring finger sparkled.

"I'm going out to work now. Liang, just stay home today like usual. Watch TV or flip through photo albums. Maybe you'll remember some things."

Honami Ichinose entered the room and selected a set of casual clothes from the closet. Unlike her loungewear, Honami looked much more capable and mature in her casual clothes. It was then that you realized she was a working adult, and judging from the situation, you felt like a social outcast, practically being supported entirely by your wife, barely qualifying as a stay-at-home dad.

"It's okay, my salary is enough to support the two of us, Liang doesn't need to feel guilty or anything like that."

She seemed to sense your emotions, and before putting on her shoes, she came over and hugged you again.

"Don't worry, just call me if anything happens. My number is the only one in my contacts on both the landline and mobile phone. I'll be the one to call in an emergency. Today is no different from any other day, so you'll be fine."

You feel like a child abandoned at home by your parents, as if your mother is telling you not to touch this or that. This strange sense of incongruity makes you nod irritably, as if you're hoping they'll leave quickly.

"I will always love you."

Before closing the door, Honami Ichinose kissed your lips. You responded awkwardly and stiffly, and she eventually left, closing the door behind her.

You stood inside, hearing rustling sounds outside. The warmth of their touch still lingered on your lips. You stood there quietly until your lips cooled and the sounds outside faded. Then, tentatively, you turned the doorknob.

"Squeak."

The door to the house was pushed open as you wished, but only a crack, about one or two centimeters wide.

You stare at the three taut iron chains beside your feet, one end fixed to the lower door frame, the other locked into a chain lock on the outside door handle. You tentatively reach out, but only manage to squeeze out two fingers. You push the door hard, but it remains unmoved.

To put it bluntly, to summarize your current situation:

You are imprisoned in this house.

You pace around this house, from the kitchen to the living room, open the refrigerator to look at the ingredients, walk into the living room to touch the decorative paintings, and when you realize that you are the only one in this house, a huge emptiness envelops you like a dark cloud.

There are no images or sounds in your memory. There is nothing in this house that you can remember, not even a picture of yourself. No matter how detailed Ichinose Honami’s descriptions of them are, you can’t recall any time you spent with her, except for what happened after you woke up this morning.

You stand before that enormous wedding photo once more, closing your eyes and using it as an anchor point to search your memory. But all you find are layers upon layers of scents—a scent akin to withered, decaying vegetation, overripe berries about to rot, the decaying flesh of a dead body… the scent of a corpse. They flicker in your memory, like the last rays of sunset struggling to disappear into the night.

You reread the letter that was supposedly written to Honami Ichinose, carefully comparing the handwriting to the one on the note you'd seen that morning. While handwriting does mature and change with age, certain habitual strokes or unique character styles are difficult to alter. You examined the "love letter" word by word, ultimately arriving at a somewhat chilling conclusion:

The author of this love letter is not the same person as the author of the note you found this morning, even though they are both signed "Kitagawa Ryo".

"One of them is fake." You found a pen in the study and, with your eyes closed, copied your name five times onto a piece of paper.

When you opened your eyes again, you discovered that the handwriting on the paper, "Kitagawa Ryo," was a third type of handwriting, completely different from the one on the note and in the love letter.