Chanyeol was one of those individuals who did not know the consequences. Even if he did know, he wouldn't hesistate to undergo the treatment. His mind is clouded with pain and he was tired, too tired of feeling the heavy weight of his emotions brought to him by his boyfriend when he heard the unmistakable sound of his voice another man's name—in such a way his name had never been said even once—resonated in his skull as he stood in front of his house to surprise and greet him a happy second anniversary.

He visits a building with a huge sign that says "Wish-Granting Factory" located in the heart of the city and run by renowned scientists after a week when he deemed himself ready to forget, and leaves the place feeling indifferent, numb and new.

Literally new.

He exited the grand, glass doors with the same face, same body, but his mind and heart were no longer the same as before. 

Chanyeol came out with the numbers 6 and 1 imprinted on the middle of his chest slightly towards his left like a scar, like a label. He came out without the knowledge of what happiness, sadness, anger—stuff like those, are. He came out with brand new memories that were all just about the basic tips in living and all too bland for humans, his eyes dull and mouth set to a straight line. The only thing he knew was his name and his occupation: Park Chanyeol, music producer.