"It looks like he has amnesia." , said the doctor with a bald spot on the top of his head.

"Wait, you mean the amnesia where people don't remember anything?" Nora asked, looking unhappy with the diagnosis she had just heard.

The doctor wrote down his diagnosis on an examination paper and handed it to the nurse beside him, "Yeah, it's more or less like that. But there's no need to worry; it seems to be temporary, seeing that there are no fatal wounds on his head. He's just in shock. In some time, his memory should return.", he said, "Sir, I hope your memory recovers quickly."

Nora immediately held the doctor's hand as he turned to leave, "You didn't misdiagnose, did you?", she asked, sounding unhappy.

The doctor looked at Nora and then chuckled, while the nurse who came with him looked at Nora with a look that was both unhappy and worried that there would be a scene. Things like this happened often and usually started from the patient's family. There was nothing the nurse could do but stand by.

"Do you doubt the disappearance of these hairs from my head, Miss? I know, sometimes reality is too painful to accept, but what can one do? I heard that man was injured saving you and your daughter. He was an angel, you know? Out of the hundreds of people at the scene, how many had the courage like him to save you? I'm sure there's no other but him."

Nora was stunned by the doctor's words. Slowly her hand that was holding the hand of the doctor's suit weakened and finally released its grip. Her cheek felt like it had just been slapped so hard that she couldn't even retaliate.

"And one more thing. It looks like your daughter has thrush. You can get the medicine if you go to the pediatrician. The room is to the right of the administration area." The doctor said it again before he left.

Nora looked at her daughter, who was asleep in her arms. She felt that what the doctor said was true. She hugged her daughter tightly, trying to cover up the guilt of doubting the doctor and the uselessness of wasting money on the treatment of an amnesiac, when the price of her life and her daughter's life was incomparable to that of a hospital.

Owen had been watching the dialog between the doctor and Nora. He had heard and knew a little about amnesia before. For one of his clients, a few months ago, was also diagnosed with amnesia, which led to his tragic death from a traffic accident.

He saw this as a good opportunity to get close to Nora without any suspicion. Plans kept popping up in Owen's head. Arranging deaths for dozens of clients every day made him automatically think of thousands of ways to arrange Nora's death. Except that this time he was actually in human form, going head-to-head with his special client 'Nora'.

"Are you going to leave me?" Owen's question rang out clearly amidst the noise of machines and the bustle of the emergency room.

Nora's body was shocked as if she had just been electrocuted. She turned around and came face-to-face with Owen. Her evil mind and conscience continued to struggle; neither would budge, and there was no sign of who would win.

Her evil mind kept urging Nora to feign ignorance and just walk away, leaving Owen with a diagnosis of amnesia. The bribe for that decision was this month's unpaid bills.

Agitated by the doctor's words, Nora's conscience was not to be outdone. Like a laborer who's not afraid to protest for his rights, her conscience couldn't stop talking about the good Owen had done for Nora and Aileen. The name 'Aileen' was the most frequently mentioned, as a mainstay to touch on Nora's weak points.

This time and always, Nora's conscience won.

Nora introduced herself and thanked him. Owen, who was playing the role of a person with amnesia, did not respond. He was silent. He didn't expect being amnesiac to be fun. Because people would understand if he just kept quiet, not answering the questions asked of him.

"Do you remember what happened to you before you were brought here?"

"Where did you live?"

"Do you remember where you work?"

"What did you eat this morning?"

"Do you have a lover? A friend? What's her name? Or his?"

"What's the name of your favorite animal?"

"Who is your favorite porn star?"

"How old are you?"

Nora asked Owen almost all the core questions of the civil registration session, but none of them succeeded in making Owen speak up. The question and answer session came to an end when Nora reluctantly gave up due to her daughter's fussing.

"You wait here until your IV runs out, okay, sir? I'm going to go check on my daughter for a while over there," Nora pointed outside the emergency room, and Owen's gaze followed Nora's direction, "I don't know how long it will take me. Well, at least it'll probably be at the same time as your IV fluid runs out."

Owen shifted his gaze to the bag of fluid connected to his skin by a long tube. He looked at the back of his left hand, where the IV needle was stuck into his skin. He was pensive, absorbing all the feelings he felt on the back of his hand.

'So this is called pain. It turns out to be very unpleasant. Geez it's such a small needle.' , Owen muttered to himself.

He suddenly felt bad for some of his clients who had to endure more pain, more torture than this. Owen noted this on a note in his memory and began to consider using the Disease Technique only on people with a history of sinning.

"I wasn't expecting much," Nora explained, "but I will definitely celebrate if you get your memories back when I return."

'Yes. After you pass through the gates of death with me, miss.', Owen mused in his poker face, watching Nora's departure.