"Mr. Park Chanyeol?”

“Yes, I’m here.” He stands up, his tall physique towered the lady who had just called him.

“You’re up next. Are you ready?” The lady smiles

Park Chanyeol takes a deep breath and lets out a little sigh, “As I’ll ever be” he says.

He smiles and walks into the room as the lady motioned her to do so. He sits on the metal chair, heart breathing heavily, eyes wandering across the room. The lady leaves him there and after a while, a man enters the room. His skin was as white as snow and his face must have been structured so delicately by the heavens, he introduces himself,

“Hi, I’m Junmyeon and I will be your assigned keeper. I will be facilitating all of your sessions, if you have any questions, you may ask them now before we begin.”

“Uh, will you be the one to...”

Junmyeon smiles, “No, I won’t. They will be coming from a different person. I will just be here to assist you. Are you ready to start?”

Chanyeol nods his head and smiles one last time before he closes his eyes as cables fly over his head, sticking out from the corners of his forehead. Soon, the room became nothing but the past. It felt just like watching a montage of an old film – his view became grainy and the colors were all beautiful. Chanyeol is now standing in the meadows, he is following a short brunette boy. The boy runs until he is halfway through the meadows, the sun was setting down, illuminating the beauty of his hair. Chanyeol could only imagine how it would be like if he could the boy’s eyes but, the boy wouldn’t face him. As soon as the sun has set and has let the sky dim, Chanyeol calls out,

“Hey, let’s go home now. “

The boy doesn’t move so he repeats it,

“Hey, let’s go home now.”

He moves away, leaving the boy. He walks out of the meadows until he feels a hand roaming over his; the boy held his hand from behind. They were walking as if Chanyeol was leading the way and everytime he would turn around, the boy would just keep his head down – hiding his face from him. Chanyeol doesn’t know where to go, he doesn’t know where home is but, he kept walking as if his feet had its own mind. They reach the road and there was a car parked on the other side  - it wasn't his, he thinks, so maybe it was the boy's, and as he was about to cross, the boy lets go of his grip.

Chanyeol successfully crosses the street, loosing the tiny hands that were enveloping his but, as he looked back, the boy wasn’t there anymore.

He opens his eyes and he is back in the room again.

“Are you okay?” Junmyeon asks. “You seem a little confused?”

“Well, yes I am. I am okay and I am confused.”

“That’s how it usually goes on the first day but, don’t worry. We have the best of everything here and I’m pretty sure that you will feel better in the next sessions.”

“I hope so.”

Today, Chanyeol gets his first memory.

Years and years into the future that is the now, memories have been sold only to feed the minds of those who have forgotten. Those who sell their memories are called the Reveries; the better the memories, the higher the price. Those who buy the memories are known as the Memoirs; Memoirs buy memories because they have long forgotten theirs.

There are many reasons why people forget, some may have been under great trauma, others must have encountered severe accidents but, in the case of Chanyeol, he has surrendered them. Those who work for the government surrender their memories so as to avoid bias and injustice – the more you are the detached, the more level-headed you can be. As they say, the less you feel, the greater you can do. Chanyeol used to work for the government as a young lawyer; once he entered, all the memories of him were collected. Now, he doesn’t know who is family is, where he used to go to school, what time he would usually wake up in the morning, or even his pet ferret's name; he does not know if he had ever loved. All the memories that he earned were the many cases that he has read and now that he is on his way to leave his position at the government, he decides to get some memories back – even if they are not completely his.