1. The anomalous entity has been contained.

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Eastern Federation, Victor Psychiatric Center, High-end Ward 613, bathroom.

“Who am I?”

A young man, handsome and youthful, stared blankly into the mirror.

The face reflected back at him was both strange and familiar, yet he could not recall memories from his past. Only the most basic knowledge and fragments of information about his identity lingered in his mind, and even those remnants were riddled with contradictions and confusion.

His name was Maen. He lived on Earth, in the Eastern Federation. He was twenty-eight—or twenty-six—years old. He had led a peaceful life before his death—or he was striving desperately to achieve peace. He worked as a freelancer—or as the Director of the Bureau of Anomaly Control. He was an ordinary human—or possessed uncommon supernatural abilities.

Suddenly, Maen looked toward the bathroom door. The bedroom outside was remarkably comfortable, furnished with a spacious bed and all manner of furniture.

Yet the door leading to the corridor was locked.

Puzzled, Maen exited the bathroom, his attention drawn to the items on the desk opposite the bed.

A fountain pen and a sheet of white paper, densely covered in writing.

He instinctively raised his hand from a meter away.

In the next instant, the paper became a flash of white lightning, landing in his hand.

Maen looked at the paper now in his hand. The characters written on it were unfamiliar to him.

“First, you are not insane.”

That was the opening sentence.

“I know you’ll think so, or rather, I know how I would think. Maen, I am you, and what I am about to write is what I believe you must know.”

Indeed, the tone was unmistakably his own.

Even if his memories had been erased, Maen could be certain of this. It meant he knew he would develop amnesia, which was far beyond the bounds of his ordinary understanding.

“I/You once lived in two worlds. Don’t doubt it. Right now, we are in the more dangerous one. Here, the gods worshipped in religions truly exist. I have seen angels and demons with my own eyes. Anomaly users are everywhere, and various other beings hide among mortals.

“I was just attacked by an anomaly far more powerful than myself, and my memory collapse is its doing.”

So, was he in fact a traveler between worlds? Or had he arrived long ago in this world? That would explain why his worldview and basic knowledge were mutually exclusive.

If what he saw was real.

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“These are the things I/you need to know.

“1. Victor Psychiatric Center is no longer safe. Never approach the current director. He means you no harm, but he is dangerous—powerful.

“2. Unless extraordinary circumstances arise, do not resist the doctors’ instructions. You and he must abide by Victor’s rules.

“3. Aside from proper channels—official procedures for admission and discharge—there is no other way in or out of the psychiatric center.

“4. The entity that attacked you—The Unmemorable—possesses qualities that cannot be perceived or recognized. Even if it stands before you and plunges a blade into your stomach, you will completely ignore its actions.

“5. Forcing yourself to perceive or become aware of The Unmemorable will result in the collapse of your consciousness and memory. This is likely why I ended up like this.

“6. Is that so?

“7. Find your attending physician to process your discharge. Dr. Li. You have already bribed him. There are false identification documents, a fake passport, and a Southern Federation bank card (thirty million federal credits, password: six zeros) in the secret compartment of the drawer. I bought a villa in the Southern Federation; it is safe there.

“8. Wait, why am I writing this?

“9. You are a trained psychic. Your telekinetic skills and other expertise cannot be easily erased. Trust your body when necessary.

“10. I am certain there are far more important things I meant to write. But what are they?

“11. If absolutely necessary, head to Basement Level Two, Ward B213, then exit through the Bureau employee passage. Beware exposing your identity and appearance.

“12. Do not trust angels. Let them persist in their mistaken belief (that you are a psychiatric patient).

“13. What am I doing?

“14. If you encounter other anomaly entities…

“15. What is my name?

“16. Primary strategy: distance yourself from danger first—any anomaly could be lethal. Secondary strategy: if a sentient anomaly seeks trouble, selectively demonstrate your abilities; ninety percent of them still fear death. Final strategy: leave no traces.

“17. Who am I?”

Maen finished reading the message.

It appeared he had been attacked by something, resulting in his current amnesia. In the final moments before forgetting, he had decided to record crucial information in a language unknown to this world, leaving it for his future self.

That was why he had ended up standing before the mirror—he had forgotten who he was.

Maen took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the note in his hand. Then, instinctively, he activated his telekinesis.

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The paper disintegrated into dust, dissolving into the air under the force of his telekinesis.

The good news: he was a psychic, and apparently a powerful one, with a special identity—the Director of the Bureau of Anomaly Control. Before losing his memory, he had left himself a way out.

The bad news: his former self seemed to believe he was weak. Not only did unknown dangers lurk in the shadows, but he also did not understand the significance of his own identity.

A tangled mess.

If he was not mistaken, he needed to find Dr. Li first, have him help process his discharge, then use the contents of the drawer to reach a safe place, and finally figure out how to resolve his memory issues.

Knock, knock, knock.

Maen whipped around, alert, toward the source of the knocking.

“Maen, are you there?” A woman’s voice came from outside the door.

He stood and moved toward the entrance, instinctively forming a telekinetic membrane over his skin, strong enough to halt bullets and filter toxins.

Click.

Standing outside was a young girl wearing a white cap. Warm sunlight flooded the corridor, bees landed on the indoor potted plants, and a few people strolled leisurely in the distance, enjoying their midday break.

Everything seemed normal.

Except for what was reflected in the girl's pupils.

Right behind Maen, in clear view of both him and the girl.

A thin man, flattened like a frog, was embedded in the wall behind Maen by some terrifying force. His limbs twisted grotesquely within the cement, his face frozen in fear and disbelief as he stared toward the direction of Maen’s back.

Fresh blood poured from his abdomen like a waterfall, seeping across the tiles and out the door, staining Maen’s trouser cuffs and the nurse’s high heels.

This was an entity that could not be seen, heard, recognized, or remembered—a powerful anomaly. Not even death could strip him of his might.

He could make any creature forget him the moment they saw or sensed him; none of his actions left any trace in the mind of mortals.

Thus, Maen had already forgotten before he picked up the pen.

He had just killed The Unmemorable.