[Collection of Records and Research on Special Types of Amnesia]
This research was commissioned by the Great Black Dragon Emperor, aiming to compile and analyze all documented cases of memory loss to uncover their underlying characteristics. May the Empire be forever glorious.
(Omitted)
Type 3 : Nominal Memory Loss
Primary Symptoms: The individual is unable to recall their own name, and others cannot remember it either
Records of this phenomenon appear in ancient documents. In the turbulent era before the separation of schools, there was a record of a wizard who obsessively experimented with methods to disrupt ‘target designation.’
Certain soul-based abilities required precise identification of a target. For spells like ‘enemy weakening,’ specifying the target is always a prerequisite. But how exactly is this designation determined?
The ancient wizard theorized that the secret of target designation lay in names.
He believed that by concealing or erasing his name, he could nullify or diminish all magic directed at him. After years of relentless experimentation, he presumably succeeded.
The proof lies in the fragments of his research notes and personal writings that still exist today—yet, curiously, no one remembers the wizard himself. There are no historical accounts of him, nor any mention of his identity in surviving documents.Magic of this scale is not developed in isolation. It requires specialized facilities, rare materials, and collaboration, all of which leave traces—transactions, citations in scholarly papers, complaints from assistant wizards, and so on.
Yet, while his findings remain, all evidence of his existence has vanished. This absence itself suggests that the magic was indeed activated.
From this, we can infer that the eradication of a name carries such profound consequences. Regarding this, a certain wizard evaluated that⋯⋯ (Omitted).
⋯⋯⋯⋯.
Thunk.
Selvier closed the ancient book, lost in thought.
⋯⋯What was my childhood friend’s name?
===============================================================
After a week of isolation spent buried in texts, Selvier finally emerged with dark circles and baggy eyes.
She had scoured every book on memory loss in the Red Tower Library, combing through them as meticulously as searching for lice. And finally, she had found a single book among them that could explain this strange occurrence.
The erasure of a name.
⋯⋯She couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of magic could achieve such a thing. In fact, she half-suspected it was nothing more than the exaggerated boasts of some ancient wizard—like Envers, who once jumped around claiming he had grasped the sky.
Yet, the symptoms described in the book matched uncannily well.
It was plausible that her childhood friend no longer remembered her. If the theory that “the Crazy Wizard = her childhood friend” was true, then he already had two women by his side anyway.
And both of them were stronger than Selvier. More captivating in their own ways. The thought was unbearably frustrating and incredibly sad
But if he was living so happily⋯⋯ forgetting some country girl from his hometown was inevitable. She told herself this, unwillingly accepting the possibility.
However, the opposite scenario—Selvier forgetting him—was impossible.
Even if his face had blurred with time, there was no way she could forget his name. She must have written it down dozens of times, whispered it to herself hundreds more.
After all, she had even written love letters.
She hurried to the small safe hidden beneath her dormitory bed, and checked the bundle of letters she had never sent—perhaps would never send.
She was sure she had written his name on them. Yet, as she scanned each one, she found they were all addressed indirectly: ‘Childhood Friend,’ ‘My Sun.’
And then, in the very first letter she had written, back in her hometown before coming to the Red Magic Tower⋯⋯.
▒▒▒.
Where his name should have been, the letters were warped and distorted, as if each character had gained a will of their own and rearranged themselves into an incomprehensible form.
Selvier froze. A chill ran down her spine.
The love she had cherished for so long, the years of waiting⋯⋯ carried an unfathomable darkness she had never suspected.
But what truly sent shivers through her was—
“⋯⋯I didn’t know.”
The realization that she hadn’t even noticed she had forgotten.
Like a breeze slipping past unnoticed, the name had been erased so effortlessly, so naturally.
Though Selvier was terrified, she was also secretly relieved.
Because this meant it hadn’t been a choice. Her childhood friend hadn’t forgotten her by his own will—he had been forced to forget.
Yes. That had to be the truth.
And if, by some miracle, his memories returned⋯⋯ maybe she might be able to receive that warm gaze once again.
⋯⋯Then was there a way to reverse it?
No.
This magic was completely beyond Selvier’s level. achieved Metamorphosis, she would never possess the power to burn ‘names’ from reality itself.
If there was one sliver of hope left…
“The『Gate of Advancement』.”
The thought kept circling back to one thing—the Wish Ticket.
The Sublimation level Archmage, Red Magic Tower Master Vermillion, might know a way.
In the end, her only option was to complete the Red Tower Master’s assignment, become her disciple, and then ask for clues on how to restore the lost memories. While the specific wish she would make with the Wish Ticket had changed, her purpose remained the same.
The flickering uncertainty in her heart was reignited into determination. Now that she had a clear goal, there was no reason to hesitate. Her childhood friend’s teachings were pushing her from behind.
I have to catch the expelled Red Tower wizard, Kravellin Render. Somehow.
She clenched her fists.
“⋯⋯Alright, I’ll catch Kravellin no matter what, and⋯⋯!”
“Selvier, are you done? Can we leave now?”
“Eekkyak?! W-Why are you here?! This is my room—how?!”
“The window was open. The Red Tower really is quite welcoming, isn’t it?”
Crazy Wizard, having trespassed without a shred of guilt, casually pointed at the wide-open window. A rope dangled from above—it seemed he had rappelled down to break in.
“W-Why are you sneaking into people’s rooms without permission?!”
“Your face looked serious, you weren’t answering knocks, and you even skipped meals. I thought something might be wrong. I was worried.”
Her childhood friend (presumed) was worried about her. Just like in the old days.
She felt a rush of warmth, a surge of dopamine firing off as a reflex—
No.
Selvier caught herself, sensing her anger beginning to fade. She slapped her cheeks, forcing herself to stay mad.
Nothing was certain yet. Even if she was 99% sure, there was still that 1% chance that he wasn’t her childhood friend. And even if he was… this man already had two girlfriends. He had used his strange Illusion Magic on their first meeting and had tormented her with tentacles. He was someone whose true nature was something she couldn’t understand⋯⋯.
As she mentally listed out her long list of grievances to maintain her anger gauge, Crazy Wizard tied on an apron and said,
“The cafeteria food here is pretty questionable, so I was planning to show off my skills a bit⋯⋯ Would you eat if I made pasta?”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
A memory stirred.
“Sorry, Selvier. This is all I can do for you. Kids should eat properly. Someday⋯⋯ when I have a lot of money, I’ll cook you something delicious then. I promise.”
Right.
Bits of stale bread and rotten vegetables—ingredients barely usable after cutting away the inedible parts. Yet, with those, he had made food for the children in the village.
Selvier felt her nose tighten. She looked up and answered in a slightly choked voice.
“⋯⋯I’ll eat.”
“Good. I’ll go prepare, so come to the cafeteria!”
Crazy Wizard pretended not to notice the dampness in her eyes. Each of these small, silent consideration pierced painfully into her heart. Scenes from the past overlapped, one after another.
Selvier wiped her eyes.
No, Selvier. Don’t be greedy.
She had already decided—just knowing he was alive was enough. She had sworn to herself that she would be happy for him, even if he had moved on, even if he had started a family*.*
So be happy.
But deep down—
She desperately wished for him to regain his memories.
For him to return to her, but⋯⋯.
===============================================================
Selvier and I finished preparing for our advent-
“⋯⋯Can’t you cut down on the luggage? Your bag is three times your size.”
“Well, it’s better to be prepared than⋯⋯.”
“Open it. No—why did you pack so many books?!”
“For research⋯⋯.”
After Selvier confiscated nearly two bags’ worth of books, we finally wrapped up our preparations.
Our target, C-something, was somewhere outside the Red Tower. So we had no choice but to go out and find him.
But how could we just wander aimlessly across the continent? If we weren’t careful, this “short trip” could turn into a lifelong journey.
I turned to Selvier.
“How do you plan to find him?”
“The Red Magic Tower constantly receives updates about expelled wizards. Reports from across the continent are compiled in the Purification Office. Wait here patiently.”
“Kay.”
Selvier efficiently handled various tasks—like expertly filling out information request forms—and after 30 minutes, she returned with a document in hand.
It contained witness testimonies about our target.
She analyzed it, tapping her fingers against the page.
“The most recent record claims he’s working as a mercenary near the Eastern⋯⋯ Easter Front, but this doesn’t seem reliable. Probably a lie.”
“Why?”
“Because it contradicts the previous sighting. Kravellin Render participated in the Hero Selection Tournament in the Holy City, and this fact has been thoroughly cross-verified. There’s no doubt about it. And the distance between these two locations is absurdly far.”
I clapped my hands in admiration of Selvier’s sharp reasoning.
“Aha⋯⋯ right. That was an impressive deduction. If only our target hadn’t been caught up in a large-scale, random coordinate forced teleportation courtesy of the Goddess.”
“What?”
“Looks like the news hasn’t spread yet. You’ve heard about the incidents in the Holy City, right? This was one of them. All Hero candidates were scattered across the world.”
“⋯⋯I’ll arrange a carriage to the Eastern Front.”
Selvier looked like she had a lot to say—but decided against it. It seemed she was afraid that if she asked for details, she’d get more information than she was prepared to handle.
As we boarded the carriage, stowing away our bags and surrendering ourselves to the rhythm of the rattling wheels, my thoughts wandered.
One of them was about Selvier.
“⋯⋯Eueum.”
Not even minutes after we had set off, she was already asleep.
I had watched her tirelessly comb through every book on memory loss in the library. For whatever reason, I kept getting the urge to take care of her.
Back then, when she fell asleep at dawn while reading, I had covered her with a blanket without thinking.
Then I had come across that ancient document—something about names.
At this point, even I couldn’t ignore it. There were too many clues.
1) Selvier and I were both from Swallowtail Village. Our ages roughly lined up too.
2) The pure white path I had discovered within myself was similar to what Selvier described as her ‘childhood friend.’
3) The gaps in my memory aligned too well. Rather than believing two random people with memory defects had coincidentally met, it was far more plausible that my memories had been hidden—making it impossible for Selvier to identify me.
With all this in mind…
Even if it wasn’t confirmed, I had to be Selvier’s ‘childhood friend.’
The world sure was small. So I had a childhood friend girl too.
I thought about it for a long time after that.
Was I truly the same person as my pre-memory-loss self?
Just because my past self had cherished Selvier—did that mean I was obligated to cherish her too?
The answer was no.
had chosen the middle ground between black and white. From that moment on, the past me and the current me were practically two separate beings. I had no intention of inheriting any emotions that weren’t mine.
However—
I didn’t want Selvier’s long wait to be meaningless.
Wasn’t she someone who worked hard? And hard work should be rewarded. Later when I regained my memories⋯⋯ maybe I could give her a part of me. Something like returning a version of her childhood friend in a way.
Even without all that, though, I already held favorable feelings toward her that wasn’t affection.
Clunk.
The carriage jolted violently.
I glanced at Selvier—she stirred slightly but still traveling in dreamland.
“She sleeps well⋯⋯.”
Could she be a deep sleeper?
And then, there was the issue of names.
I didn’t know my own name, and I could barely remember anyone else’s either.
Until now, I had assumed it was a side effect of having ‘That’ in my head. But… maybe it was something else entirely.
A new hypothesis formed.
If names held more power than I had thought—
Then maybe… this was some sort of magical breakwater. Something my pre-memory-loss self had deliberately put in place.
There had to be a reason for it.
And until I dealt with ‘That’, I wouldn’t be called by my name⋯⋯.
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
===============================================================
After quite some time had passed, we arrived at Polmaker, a city near the Eastern Front.
Nothing noteworthy happened along the way—because I, the inheritor of Fire Magic, was here.
Every problem was neatly resolved by flicking a mini spark into the goblins’ ear canals. It was almost too convenient and pleasant. Of course, it was nothing compared to the Illusion Magic that could make “Spaghetti alle Vongole flavored jerky” a reality, but⋯⋯.
Even after returning to the Purple Tower, I had a feeling I’d miss this feeling.
I poked Selvier, who was curled up and sleeping on the carriage floor.
“Selvier, Selvier?”
“Mmnya⋯⋯.”
“Miss Selvier, Lady Selvier, bed-wetter, fireball launcher.”
“⋯⋯Eueung⋯⋯.”
Completely out cold.
So utterly defenseless.
Even when I grabbed and shook her shoulders, she didn’t wake up. At this rate, I could kidnap her back home, and she wouldn’t even notice.
This had to mean she trusted me—her childhood friend—100%.
Just what exactly did my past self do⋯⋯?
Well, regardless, if this girl didn’t wake up, I was going to have to carry double the luggage.
“⋯⋯⋯Ah well.”
Looking at her peaceful sleeping face, my heart softened. Right, it should be fine just to move her to the inn. If it got too heavy along the way, I could just wake her up.
With a fleeting regret that I should have exercised more, I hoisted Selvier onto my back and grabbed the backpacks with both hands
What immediately followed was the thought that she had more volume than expected.
But this was still manageable.
The Eastern Front was a war zone—where First Princess Elaine had firmly planted her stake, waging an all-out war against endlessly multiplying demons.
In other words, the demand for violence never ran dry. The Eastern Front was still short on manpower.
And where did they recruit manpower to meet this demand?
Here. Polmaker.
So I had heard that this city historically had one of the largest mercenary markets in the Empire, but seeing it with my own eyes made me understand.
It was absolutely crawling with mercenaries.
Compared to other cities, there were at least five times as many general stores and weapons suppliers. Almost every pedestrian was armed.
We just had to track down K-something’s location here—then take his head and wrap up the mission.
There was no moral dilemma in this job.
K-something’s crimes included wizard murder and theft of classified research materials. He had turned an entire Red Tower research wing into a bloodbath before fleeing.
There was no reason to hesitate in eliminating him.
First, we needed to get an inn room, and then investigate slowly.
I cheerfully approached a passing pedestrian.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find an inn?”
“Yes I do.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯?”
I blinked at the back of the pedestrian’s head as they answered plainly—then kept walking without another word.
…Okay. Maybe they were just having a bad day.
I found someone else who looked friendlier and tried again.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for an inn. Which one has the best quality in this city?”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
What the.
Faced with the citizens’ cold treatment, I wondered if I was unknowingly emitting a hate-aura through some unintentional Illusion Magic. But it wasn’t that either.
This wasn’t hatred.
The citizens weren’t reacting with malice—they were just ignored me without any emotion. Like I wasn’t their problem.
I checked myself over. No curses on my body either. I looked at my face in a nearby puddle. Still looked fairly handsome.
Then why⋯⋯?
And that’s when I felt it. A strange pull.
Like I was sensing a lost part of myself.
One of the fragments of my soul, another Mima, was here.
The puzzle pieces clicked into place.
Among the modules in my head, the only one that could cause something like this…
I finally realized the culprit.
A chill ran down my spine.
“『Whatever-TV Module』, is this your doing⋯⋯?!”
What the hell did you do to make the entire city act like this?!
I felt my karma creeping down my back⋯⋯!
***
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