1.1 Start the Examination with a Bang

8:32 am. Saturday. August 1.

Alphaelia Academy.

A3 Street. Examination Room.

I woke up, one day, feeling incomplete. Like there's a missing piece in my heart and a piece that doesn't sit fit into it.

Every night I dreamed of a dark abyss slowly engulfing the light that was guiding the pitiful lad. I felt the emptiness of his heart and the suffocating reality. I heard his cries of agony and the shattering of dreams. I saw the confusion, pain, misery, and hopelessness in his eye.

He struggled, raised his hands for help but none came. He succumbed to darkness and gradually. . . faded.

I realized. . .

It was me.

I'm lost— and I sounded like a literature fanatic.

But to cut the story short—I, one day, after waking up from a series of dreams, had a head-splitting headache, and at that moment I knew something was off. Of course, as a person who uses his common sense, I decided to see a doctor, and viola— was diagnosed with a Retrograde Amnesia.

I was asked if I still wanted to recover those memories and who wouldn't, right? So Doctor Ferrer recommended a psychiatrist. I paid her a visit, and viola— I have another task.

Figure it out all by myself—by organizing it as notes.

That was a week ago after I unwillingly agree to take an entrance exam due to the constant nagging of Mrs. Germar. I didn't inform them about my condition because I have this hunch that I need, quoting Miss Alfaro's statement, to figure it out all by myself.

Ever since young, I'm already aware of how persistent my curiosity is. It wasn't a simple act of an ignorant kid wanting to be enlightened about the things adults knew better. The things that I wanted to know, is much more than what a kid needed. Much more than what an adult can answer.

Growing up, as I learn new things, satiate my thirst for answers and broaden my perception, I realized one thing.

Too much curiosity is deadly.

Deadly.

Wait— who died?

Again.

What was it that I was curious about?

Murders?

Cold bodies lying recklessly amidst the pool of blood.

Suicide?

A suffocated lad, eyes open, seemingly regretting hanging himself.

Poisoning

Punching the face of a police officer because his smirk was annoying.

Conspiracy?

Accident?

Death?

Organization?

Cappuccino?

Cappuccino.

There seems to be a fragmental memory of me splashing an iced cappuccino into someone's face.

I doubt the authenticity because...

First, based on my self-understanding, I would rather smack his head than waste a cup of cappuccino.

One of my family's virtue—wasting is a blasphemy to the Money God residing at our Germar Residence.

Second, I don't drink cappuccino. So why would I order one?

Maybe someone asked me to?

Impossible. Ordering me around is just impossible except if it is the great Mrs. Germar.

How many years' worth of memories did I lose?

Three years' worth of memories.

This will definitely take me some time.

"Ayos ka lang ba?" A concerned voice snapped me out from the train of thoughts inside my head.

I check out the guy standing in front of his seat just across mine. He looks quite decent—no. His face looks decent but his gaudy pink hair says otherwise.

Bright color

Attention seeker.

Kinulang siguro sa pansin noong bata tapos takot hindi mapansin ngayon kaya nagpakulay ng pink.

But setting aside the pink-haired guy, I scanned my surroundings and saw a bunch of nerds immersed in reading their notes, taking this entrance exam seriously, and somehow holding a cup of coffee in their hands. Looking at myself, I, too, was holding a cup of coffee (courtesy by the blond-dude at the entrance) but wasn't reviewing any notes but scribbling fragments of memories that even I don't know if real.

I suddenly thought I got the wrong room and felt ashamed of myself but NO— the Notes of Secret Conspiracies (as I labeled my notebook) is more important.

"Kinakabahan ka rin? Pareho tayo hehe. Pakiramdam ko kulang pa lahat ng ni-review ko. Sa totoo nga lang, inilagay ko pa sa ilalim ng unan ko lahat ng reviewer ko kasi sabi ni nanay, mas makakabisado ko raw kapag ginawa ko 'yun. Mahina rin ako sa Math kaya baka matagalan ako sa pagso-solve mamaya. Kaya mas lalo akong kinakabahan kasi nag-apply rin ako for a scholarship. Ay! ako nga pala si Kannon. Ikaw? Dream school mo rin ang Alphaelia?"

"What will you do if you forgot about something or someone?" I asked without any hesitation and remorse for being impolite—not returning the same level of enthusiasm he had while talking about his who-cares-life-intrigues.

"Ah?" His eyes dilated. I can literally see letters and words forming out of nowhere and floating around him. His face varies from shocked to worried to bewildered to terrified and when his last expression came out which is enlightened, those floating light bulbs dimmed one by one until only one light bulb is shining brightly.

"Aalalahanin ko?" He answered stupidly almost making me lost all tiny patience I saved up for the whole year. I suddenly wanted to flare-up.

Of course, idiot. If you forgot something, you should try to recall it.

Oh, God! How come I didn't think of that earlier?

NO—

"Yeah. Stupid me." I murmured drifting my eyes back to the notebook I've been scribbling on.

I don't feel like thinking anymore. I consider myself a smart and logical thinker but these questions running in my head are just too much. I'd rather stare at someone and judge him all day. That's a skill that I would never in my life forget.

Back to what I was writing. . .

How come that memory of me with a cappuccino suddenly appeared?

Because I was given a cappuccino by the blond-guy?

Memories can be triggered

I've been in our home for almost three months but nothing there seems to give me a trigger.

During those three years, I wasn't in our home.

I was in a boarding school or a dorm.

That's maybe the case. If I had a conflict with my family, their presence alone would trigger a memory.

Why would that kind of memory appear?

It was an important memory. A memory that was still inside my head before this amnesia farce happened.

Why did it become an important memory

Error. Cannot access the information.

Great. Let's just say that the memory is important because, at that time, I was acting the infamous scene of Bituing Walang Ningning, 'you're nothing but a second rate trying hard copy cat' and splashed—

NO—

CASE UNSOLVED.