Sergeant Luna's gaze hardened, her features unreadable, though it was clear she was paying close attention to every word. "Anything else you noticed?" she asked again, her tone steady, almost probing. She chose not to let Kaelyn notice her growing suspicion. She maintained a calm and understanding demeanor, masking the curiosity swirling in her mind.
"There was something unusual about her scent," Maerwyn added after a pause, her voice lowering as she revisited the memory. "She smelled of antiseptic—clean, but not overly fragrant. It was sharp, like I always smell in this place. Not pleasant, but distinct."
Luna paused, her eyes narrowing as if piecing together a puzzle. Maerwyn noted the shift in her demeanor and continued, though she spoke more slowly now. "Her hands trembled while holding the knife. She pushed hard, but she wasn't confident in her movements. It felt... untrained. She seemed like an amateur."
Luna's gaze bore into Maerwyn, her expression betraying nothing but her silence heavy with thought. Something about Maerwyn's description unsettled her as if it didn't align with what she had expected. The room fell quiet, the weight of the tension growing palpable between them.
"Amateur," Luna repeated, her tone measured and deliberate. "What makes you say she was an amateur? Do you have any basis for that?"
Maerwyn's eyes widened at the question. She realized she may have said too much and needed to tread carefully. Forcing a slight, puzzled smile, she answered, "Ah, it's because... her hands were trembling while she held the knife. She didn't seem confident or comfortable. And her steps—they were heavy. Shouldn't a killer move more quietly?"
Luna remained silent, her sharp gaze fixed on Maerwyn as though dissecting every word. "Hmm," she murmured, nodding slightly, though her expression stayed sharp and probing.
The sergeant leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving Maerwyn. "Interesting. You noticed her steps as well. That's quite an observation—within mere seconds, you picked up on so much: her scent, her movements, even the way she gripped the knife. That's not exactly typical for a civilian." There was a mix of curiosity and suspicion in Luna's tone as she scrutinized Maerwyn's explanation.
"Maybe it was just adrenaline," Maerwyn replied seriously. "When you're in danger, you notice things you wouldn't normally pay attention to."
She held Luna's gaze steadily, aware that the sergeant was examining her every move and word. Maerwyn could sense the woman's sharp intellect, as though Luna was silently searching for cracks in her story. But Maerwyn had spent years mastering the art of concealing her emotions. No one would see the unease creeping into her chest.
Luna raised an eyebrow, contemplating Maerwyn's response. "You're right. But not everyone has that kind of sharpness in a dangerous situation. Most people freeze or panic. You? You didn't seem to do either. Are you used to danger, Kaelyn?"
There was something unusual about the young woman standing before her, Luna thought. The way she spoke, her tone, and the confidence in her words—it felt as though she were speaking to someone much older, someone seasoned, not a young girl. It was a detail Luna couldn't ignore.
"Danger, you say?" Maerwyn replied, meeting Luna's gaze directly. "You already know what happened to me. I've faced danger—I've faced death. Do you think I'd let myself become careless in my situation?" Her tone was serious, tinged with a faint bitterness that seemed to underline the fact that she had no choice but to always be prepared.
Luna caught the weight behind those words and paused for a moment. She allowed a faint smile to form, straightening her posture slightly and easing some of the tension in the conversation. "Alright. Get some rest for now. But remember this, Kaelyn," she said, her tone firm and deliberate. "If you recall anything else, no matter how small or insignificant it seems, don't hesitate to tell me. Every detail matters."
Her piercing gaze lingered on Maerwyn as she delivered her final words. Luna couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unusual about the young woman in front of her—not just in the way she spoke, but also in the silence that seemed to surround her. It was as though Maerwyn was hiding something, though Luna had no proof. Not yet.
"Rest up," Luna repeated, though her tone carried a subtle warning. "I'll return once we uncover more information."
Maerwyn nodded, keeping her voice steady. "Understood. Thank you, Sergeant Luna."
As Luna turned to leave, Maerwyn let out a quiet sigh and closed her eyes. She knew Luna wouldn't let her off easily, especially since the sergeant seemed adept at finding the holes in her story. She would need to tread carefully moving forward.
Her gaze shifted to her injured hand, the dull ache from the bandages grounding her in the moment. The memory of the attacker's face lingered in her mind—though obscured by a mask, the way the woman moved had left an impression. She wasn't skilled, but she was strong. Unrefined, yet determined.
"There's no point in choosing a peaceful life in this second chance if it means inheriting the dangers of Kaelyn's," Maerwyn thought to herself, her resolve solidifying. "Before I can truly claim this body as my own, I have to help her get the justice she deserves for her death."
With that, Maerwyn made her decision. She would uncover the truth behind the attack, not only to protect herself but to honor the life that had been unfairly taken from Kaelyn.
*****
Meanwhile, outside the hospital, Sergeant Luna walked toward her car. As she searched for her keys, she paused briefly, recalling Kaelyn's words.
"Amateur, she said," Luna murmured to herself. "But for someone 'amateur,' if Kaelyn's body hadn't instinctively fought back, that attacker could have killed her…"
The thought lingered in her mind. Kaelyn's sharp senses were remarkable. It wasn't every day she met someone who could recall such intricate details in such a short span of time. It was impressive.
"Perhaps it's the trauma," Luna mused aloud, nodding to herself. "Maybe that's why the girl's awareness is so heightened."
She climbed into her car and immediately called her office. "I need all the CCTV footage from the hospital—everything from the emergency entrance to the hallways. And I want a background check on Kaelyn."
As Luna started the engine, a question crossed her mind. "By the way, Nathan," she said casually into the phone, "Would someone with amnesia forget the names of clothing items, for example, a 'scrubs'?"
"I'm not sure. I'd imagine amnesia is more about events and personal experiences. I don't think it would necessarily erase the names of common things like clothes, but who knows? Why?" Nathan said.
"Ah, never mind… just a random thought." she ended the call.
Her gaze drifted back to the hospital for a moment, her eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, Kaelyn," she murmured, her voice firm with resolve. "You'll get the justice you deserve."
With that, Luna drove off, her mind already piecing together the puzzle she was determined to solve.
A month had passed since Maerwyn was hospitalized. Although she still had bandages on her hands and feet, she could now stand and walk properly. According to the doctor, Kaelyn's body had recovered remarkably fast. The initial x-ray revealed severe fractures in her back, along with a broken leg and arm. However, her bones healed quickly, almost eliminating the need for physical therapy. Instead, she underwent therapy with a physiologist to help her cope with the trauma she had experienced.
Experts still believed that the trauma was the reason for Kaelyn's amnesia. They found no abnormalities in her brain, and even her internal organs showed no signs of damage.
Meanwhile, the reopening of Kaelyn's case proved unsuccessful. There wasn't enough evidence to revive the investigation. Although a video surfaced showing Kaelyn being pushed, it was deemed insufficient proof. No other evidence emerged.
Even the attempt on her life at the hospital yielded no results. Sergeant Luna confirmed that the CCTV footage had been erased, with the cameras allegedly "malfunctioning" in that area. Despite her suspicions, her superiors ordered her to cease her investigation. She was warned that if she didn't stop, she would be transferred to another location. Attorney Cruz, who had been blackmailed, was also forced to lay low.
The school board of directors approached Kaelyn's father, offering him a settlement in exchange for his silence and forgetting the incident. Although Kaelyn's father vehemently objected, he realized they had no leverage due to the lack of evidence. Ultimately, he agreed on one condition—Kaelyn's re-enrollment in the school. While the board initially hesitated, they eventually relented.
*****
"I don't want her here!" Anya screamed, her voice trembling as she glared at her mother.
"Anya, there's nothing we can do," her mother replied firmly, but with a hint of coldness, trying to stay calm. "She's your Daddy Seb's daughter. She's coming home, and there's nothing we can do about it, even if we don't want her to."
"It's not possible! Why... why is she still alive?" Anya retorted, her breath catching, and she seemed to lose herself for a moment. "It can't be! It can't be, Mom..." She stepped back, clutching the edge of the bed, and trembling, she pulled the blanket over herself. Tears welled up in her eyes as she rubbed her hands as if trying to erase something. Her gaze was wild—lost, fearful, and filled with anxiety.
Her mother approached, placing a firm hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Anya, listen to me," she said firmly, her eyes burning with worry. "You're not to blame for what happened. Do you understand? She took her own life."
"N-no... It's not... It's not like that!" Anya's voice trembled, she shook her head, but her eyes were filled with fear. "Mom, I saw her! Kaelyn is dead! I saw it myself! I heard her fall! I saw the blood—her eyes! She's dead!" She screamed, gasping for air, and almost crawled away from her mother.
"Anya!" her mother shouted angrily, shaking her daughter's shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself! Don't panic! Don't let them see!" Anya stopped, startled by the weight of her mother's voice, but her chest continued to heave with heavy breaths.
"Listen carefully," her mother said, softer but with a hint of intimidation. "She doesn't remember anything. She doesn't even remember her own father, let alone us? So don't you dare let them see. Do you understand? You, Anya, are her kind sister—the sister who loves her."
But Anya's mind was in turmoil. Fear, anger, and guilt clashed. She couldn't stop the memories. The scene returned to her mind—Kaelyn's body lying lifeless, bathed in her own blood. Her cold eyes staring at her as she slowly faded away.
"I didn't do anything... I didn't do anything..." she whispered to herself, repeating the words, while rubbing her hands. But no matter how many times she repeated those words, it couldn't alleviate the growing pain and fear in her chest. The sound of Kaelyn's fall from the rooftop, the sound of the silence afterward—everything remained alive in her mind.
"Anya, do you understand?" her mother asked firmly, breaking through her daze. She nodded weakly, but her body wouldn't stop trembling.
Seeming content with the answer, her mother stood up and left Anya alone in the room. The door closed silently, but for Anya, the weight of the silence enveloped her.
Left sitting on the bed, Anya stared blankly into space. Her hands were still trembling, but the fear that enveloped her was even stronger. In the darkness of the room, Kaelyn's image appeared in her mind—her dim eyes filled with reproach. Her gaze seemed to scream a question, "Why?"
"No... I didn't do anything... I didn't do anything..." she whispered to herself, but she knew it wasn't true. As darkness enveloped her, her body gradually succumbed to fatigue, but even in her sleep, Kaelyn's eyes remained—watching, waiting.