
Chapter 5: A Key to the Past
The locket felt heavier in Ren’s hand than it had any right to be. He stared at its intricate design—worn edges, faint etchings that hinted at a story he couldn’t yet understand. It was incomplete, a hollow shell missing its counterpart, and somehow, that emptiness mirrored the ache in his chest.
“So, what now?” he asked Yuki, who stood by the shelves, her arms crossed as if she’d been waiting for him to ask.
“Now,” she said, “you find the other half.”
Ren gave her a flat look. “And how am I supposed to do that? It’s not like these things come with a map.”
Yuki smirked. “No, but they come with breadcrumbs.” She gestured toward the shelves around them. “These objects? They’re fragments—pieces of what the reset tries to erase. Look closely, and you might find a clue.”
Ren’s gaze swept over the room. The shelves were a chaotic assortment of everyday items: watches, books, toys, even a cracked teacup. Each one looked ordinary at first glance, but something about them felt... wrong. Like they didn’t quite belong.
He stepped closer to a shelf, his fingers brushing over a dusty photograph of a young girl holding a kite. The edges were frayed, the colors faded, but the girl’s face was eerily familiar.
“Are these... from the Forgotten Week?” Ren asked.
Yuki nodded. “Some of them, yeah. The reset isn’t perfect. Sometimes it leaves behind traces—things it couldn’t fully erase. They end up here.”
Ren frowned. “Here, in this shop? Why?”
“That’s a question I’ve been asking for years,” Yuki said, leaning against the wall. “Some people think the reset isn’t just erasing memories. It’s... relocating them. Maybe even repurposing them. And this place?” She gestured around. “It’s like a dumping ground for whatever slips through the cracks.”
Ren picked up a pocket watch, its glass cracked and hands frozen at 11:59. The moment he touched it, a faint image flashed in his mind: a man in a tattered coat standing in the rain, staring at the sky.
He dropped the watch, his breath catching. “What was that?”
“Fragments,” Yuki said, her tone more serious now. “The objects in this room are tethered to the memories they couldn’t fully erase. Touching them can trigger flashes—pieces of the Forgotten Week. It’s dangerous, though. Dig too deep, and you might not come back the same.”
Ren rubbed his temples, his frustration mounting. “This is insane. I just want to find her. The girl in the photo. The one who gave me the locket. If the reset’s trying to erase her, why does she keep coming back?”
Yuki tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe she’s not coming back. Maybe she never left.”
Ren froze. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” Yuki said. “If the system couldn’t erase her completely, maybe she’s been stuck here this whole time—caught between the Forgotten Week and our world. And you?” She pointed at him. “You’re her tether. As long as you remember her, she has a chance to exist.”
The weight of her words settled over him like a lead blanket. If Yuki was right, then forgetting wasn’t just a risk—it was a death sentence for the girl.
“So how do I find the other half of the locket?” Ren asked, his voice quieter now.
Yuki pushed herself off the wall and walked to one of the shelves. She picked up a small, leather-bound notebook and handed it to him. “Start with this.”
Ren flipped through the pages, which were filled with scribbled notes and sketches. Some were maps, others were lists of names, and a few showed strange symbols that made no sense to him.
“This belonged to someone who tried to fight the reset,” Yuki explained. “They were looking for the same answers you are. Maybe they got closer than anyone else.”
Ren stopped on a page with a rough sketch of a locket, almost identical to the one in his hand. Below it were the words: “Key to the Doorway.”
“What’s the Doorway?” Ren asked.
Yuki hesitated. “No one knows for sure. Some people think it’s the origin of the reset. Others say it’s a way out—a way to escape the system entirely. But if you want the truth about her, you’ll have to find it.”
Ren closed the notebook, his resolve hardening. “Where do I start?”
Yuki gave him a faint smile. “That’s the easy part. Follow the fragments.”
---
A Fragment from the Forgotten
Ren spent the rest of the day scouring the town, the notebook tucked securely in his bag. The sketches and notes led him to places he’d never paid attention to before: an old train station, a crumbling fountain in the park, and finally, an abandoned house on the outskirts of town.
The house was quiet, its windows boarded up and its walls covered in ivy. But something about it felt... alive.
He stepped inside, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Dust hung heavy in the air, and the faint scent of mildew stung his nose.
In the center of the room, sitting on a broken table, was a music box.
Ren approached it cautiously, his heart pounding. The music box was old, its paint chipped and its key rusted, but it felt familiar—like something he’d seen in a dream.
He reached out and turned the key.
The melody that played was hauntingly beautiful, and as it filled the room, another flash of memory hit him: the girl from the rooftop, standing in a field of flowers, holding the music box in her hands.
When the music stopped, the lid of the box popped open, revealing a small, folded piece of paper. Ren picked it up, his hands trembling.
Inside was a single word:
“North.”