Holding the pen right at his arm, frozen, Lenny's smile gradually reduced to a frown.
"I've forgotten… what I wanted to write?" He asked himself, surprised as such a thing wasn't meant to be possible.
With maxed-out intelligence, he shouldn't be able to forget anything—even if he wanted to, and in addition, not so suddenly.
Knowing very much that he wouldn't just pick a pen up—even about to write on his own body—for absolutely no reason, he experienced a deep sense of foreboding.
'Could I have been… forced to forget something just now? What was forgotten?' Lenny thought, pondering on the last thing he was thinking of.
No matter how hard he tried, however, his mind was entirely blank. He could only remember fragments of what he was thinking of when he was still sitting on the bed.
"Jesus…" he muttered. "Isn't this what happened to Mike? Wh— What kind of power is this?!"
