Teach Me Dirty

7: Memory Loss

Kehanar’s eyes opened, but she quickly shut them again as the light in the room felt too bright. It hurt her eyes, so she kept them closed for a moment.

Then, she slowly opened them again, blinking a few times. This time, her eyes began to adjust, and the light no longer felt as harsh, allowing her to see clearly.

She looked around, trying to remember anything, but her mind seemed blank and slow to process anything.

Just then, the door opened, and a physician walked in absentmindedly. The moment he noticed she was awake, he quickly hurried to her side.

Without wasting time, he gently helped her sit up, supporting her as she regained her strength.

“You are awake, finally,” he said, looking at her in relief.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice weak and unsure who this man was.

“I’m Forlod, the physician who took care of you, Kehanar,” he replied.

“Kehanar,” she repeated slowly, as if testing the name. Her brows furrowed slightly, her mind struggling to understand what he meant by calling her that.

The physician was stunned by her sudden reaction, this put him in a confusing state. He quickly reached out and touched her head, checking if something was wrong.

“Kehanar. That is your name,” he said gently, trying to reassure her.

She looked at him as though he was speaking a language she did not understand.

“My name?” she asked slowly.

He let out a slow sigh, feeling concern for her.

Quickly, he ran a few tests… checking her pulse, examining her reflexes, and observing her reactions, but everything seemed normal.

Nothing appeared physically wrong. No matter how thoroughly he tested her, the results gave no answers, leaving him puzzled and worried.

Although Nudoz had pushed her hard, causing her to hit her head against the wall and lose consciousness, but all the tests showed that she was physically okay.

There were no signs of serious injury, no fractures or internal damage. Despite the impact, her body had held up.

But it seemed she couldn’t remember who she was. The physician could only explain it one way to be fear.

Whatever had happened to her must have been terrifying, triggering a response that affected her memory. He suspected it might be a temporary condition, a kind of memory loss caused by intense fear, leaving her mind blank and confused about her own identity.

“Can’t you really remember who you are?” he asked again, his voice filled with genuine pity, watching her closely.

She shook her head slowly, unable to meet his eyes, confusion written across her face.

“It’s a pity,” he said, his eyes full of concern. “You should at least remember that your name is Kehanar. So much misfortune has befallen you, and now… you are a prisoner of King Nudoz. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. “My name is Kehanar. And I am a prisoner of King Nudoz,” she repeated, as if saying it aloud might help her accept the reality.

*

*

*

Nudoz didn’t care much for the opinions of his advisors, especially Dilan. Speaking that way in front of the people was bold, perhaps even reckless. He might let it slide this time, but he would never forget the slight.

He stood up, and left the meeting hall without looking back. After all he had said, it was clear: Dotroth was the one who would rule Taringhal on his behalf. Whether others accepted it or not mattered little to him.

He was the king, and his word was final. His decision was made, and he would not waver, no matter the objections of those around him.

Straight, he made his way to his room. Along the corridor, a female servant suddenly stepped in front of him, her eyes wide with fear.

“Are you insane?” he asked angrily. She trembled at his cold voice, her body shaking as she struggled to respond.

“I… I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the servant stammered, bowing slightly. “But Physician Forlod sent me to inform you. He said I should let you know that Kehanar is awake.” Her hands trembled as she spoke, and her voice wavered with nervousness, clearly anxious about delivering the message.

He didn’t care. Without a word, he brushed past the servant and continued on his way, leaving her standing there. There were countless tasks waiting for him that demanded his attention, and Kehanar was not one of them.

He reached his room and closed the door behind him. Moving to the side table, he poured himself a glass of drink. Without hesitation, he took a slow sip, then settled into a chair, letting himself sink into its quiet solitude.

Whether Kehanar lived or died was of no concern to him at all. If she wished to join her dead father, that was entirely her choice, and it troubled him not in the slightest.