MegaVrse

Arc 8 : Lee know : Who are you?

Lee Know stared at the open closet, his heart pounding in the eerie silence. His foot nudged something, and he instinctively looked down. Nothing was there.

Yet, for a split second, he could have sworn it felt like something solid—a faint pressure against his toes, like he had just pushed against a pair of shoes. Not just one pair but many, lined neatly, side by side.

He frowned, stepping back. The closet was empty. Completely bare.

But the sensation lingered. His body seemed to remember something his mind couldn’t grasp. A nagging familiarity that slipped away every time he tried to hold onto it.

Lee Know pressed his fingers to his temples, willing himself to think. Shoes… why does that matter? Why does it feel so important?

The harder he tried to focus, the further the thought seemed to drift, like trying to hold water in his hands. His mind was a haze, but his body refused to let go of the strange feeling. His foot nudged forward again, as if it knew something his brain had forgotten.

He stepped back into the room, his eyes scanning every corner as if expecting something to appear. But nothing did.

The weight in his chest grew heavier, an unsettling void that gnawed at him. He left the closet and wandered through the apartment again. Every room felt off, as though it had been rearranged by someone else, someone who had stripped it of life.

The dining table had a single chair. The couch seemed too big for one person. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had never been this empty.

When he entered the bedroom, the sensation hit him again. His eyes drifted to the floor near the bed. His foot tapped lightly against it, and again, he felt it—that faint nudge of something that wasn’t there. Shoes.

He crouched, running his hand across the empty floor. It was smooth, unmarked, but the feeling wouldn’t leave him. His body remembered something, even if his mind refused to.

Lee Know sat back on his heels, exhaling shakily. “What am I missing?” he whispered to the emptiness.

His hand brushed against his pocket, and he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the photos again, searching for answers in the blurred images.

Every picture had him in it, but no one else. No friends. No family. No one at all.

His contacts were the same—seven unfamiliar names with "StrayKids" beside them. His thumb hovered over one of the names, his pulse quickening.

Should I call?

But something held him back. A deep-rooted fear of what he might discover if he did.

Instead, he closed the phone and looked around the room again. The feeling of absence was unbearable, pressing down on him like a weight.

He stood abruptly, pacing the room. His movements felt frantic, his thoughts spiraling as he struggled to piece together the fragments of his memory.

His hand brushed against the bedpost as he turned, and a sudden wave of pain shot through his head. He stumbled, clutching his forehead as a sharp, disjointed image flashed in his mind.

Laughter. Someone laughing, the sound warm and familiar.

A pair of shoes by the door. Not his.

And a name, slipping through his thoughts like a whisper he couldn’t quite catch.

“Who…” he muttered, gripping the bedpost tighter. “Who are you?”

But the memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving him alone once more.

Walking around the apartment, the strangeness continued. He noticed how his body avoided certain spaces as though on instinct—sidestepping an empty patch of floor, walking around the corner of a couch when there was no obstruction.

It wasn’t conscious, and yet it felt ingrained, like a habit he couldn’t explain. His feet paused in front of a blank wall, his hand hovering over it for a moment before pulling away, as if it were muscle memory.

“What is this?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

His mind was blank, but his body… his body was remembering something. A sense of déjà vu flooded him, overwhelming and disorienting. It was as if the answers were just out of reach, lingering in the shadows of his thoughts.

He pressed a hand to his chest, his heartbeat erratic. “Why does this feel so familiar?”

His gaze shifted to the couch again, where his phone rested. This time, he hesitated. He didn’t want to touch it. Something about the blurred photos, the missing names—it felt like opening a door he wasn’t ready to walk through.

---

Lee Know's breathing grew heavier as he stood in the center of the apartment. His gaze darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that felt real. His feet carried him to the door of the bedroom without him realizing it, as if guided by instinct.

He pushed the door open and froze.

The room was untouched, pristine, yet something about it felt wrong. He couldn't pinpoint why, but the sight of it left him uneasy. The bed was neatly made, the curtains drawn halfway, and a faint scent of something familiar lingered in the air. His chest ached, but he didn’t know why.

He moved to the desk in the corner, his hands skimming the surface. There was nothing on it except a small lamp. He pulled open the drawers, but they were empty. Frustration bubbled in his chest as he slammed them shut and stepped back.

Without thinking, he moved to another room.

The bathroom.

His eyes darted around, scanning the sink, the mirror, the shower. Again, nothing. He clenched his fists, his breathing erratic.

"Why?!" he shouted, slamming his fist against the doorframe.

The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest. He felt mad, sad, and lost all at once. He didn’t understand why these emotions were flooding him, but they wouldn’t stop.

He stumbled into the living room, running a shaky hand through his hair. His body kept moving—back to the kitchen, then the bedroom, then the living room again—as if it were searching for something his mind couldn’t remember.

Each step made the ache worse, the frustration building into a crescendo.

“Why can’t I remember?” he whispered, his voice cracking. His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor.

Tears pricked his eyes, but he didn’t even know why he was crying. He pressed his hands to his chest, trying to breathe through the pain, but it was like something was clawing at him from the inside.

He was searching for someone, or something. He was sure of it. But what? Who?

And why did it hurt so much to not know?

---

Lee Know leaned against the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion. His limbs felt like lead, and the frustration that had consumed him earlier left behind only emptiness. His eyes fluttered shut as sleep crept over him like a soft, suffocating blanket.

The quiet of the apartment was overwhelming, the stillness pressing against him as his breathing slowed. His head drooped forward, and just as sleep began to pull him under, a voice broke through the silence.

It was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind, but it was unmistakable.

"Hyung, you and I are one. We are one."

Lee Know’s eyes snapped open, his heart hammering in his chest. The voice wasn’t external; it came from within—deep in the recesses of his mind, buried in the fragments of something long forgotten.

The words echoed, reverberating through him, and he clutched his chest, his breathing sharp and uneven. His surroundings blurred, the apartment spinning as if his world were tilting on its axis.

“Who…” he whispered shakily, “who said that?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to grasp the voice, to pull it closer. His mind was a storm, flashes of light and shadow swirling in chaotic bursts. For a split second, he thought he saw a figure—a silhouette standing beside him, reaching out.

His hands trembled as he opened his eyes, the room still and silent again. But the ache in his chest remained, now heavier than ever.

The voice repeated in his mind, softer this time: "You and I are one. We are one."

He didn’t understand it, but the words felt… familiar. They resonated with something deep inside him, like a memory trying to resurface.

Lee Know sat frozen, the quiet apartment now feeling too empty, too lonely. His hand instinctively reached for his phone, but he hesitated.

“What does it mean?” he whispered into the void, his voice barely audible.

But no answer came.