"We've been walking for nearly a day," Kooni grumbled, wiping sweat from her brow. "And you still haven't told me your name."
Cain didn't stop. He moved forward like a shadow without time. The sand crunched beneath their feet, and the sun hammered at their backs like it was trying to drive them faster.
"…Cain," he said quietly.
Kooni snorted.
"Cain. Yeah. That fits."
She was about to say more—then the air trembled. The sand ahead twisted upward, rising into a towering column, and beyond it, gates appeared on the horizon.
"Is that…?" she squinted. "Did we make it?"
Cain nodded.
"Memento."
The city loomed like a rotten tooth. The stone was black and scorched, as if fire or magic had burned it from the inside out. Above the gate, a half-erased inscription read:
"Remember while you can. Sell while there's something left."
Kooni stopped.
"Well. That's one hell of a welcome."
Cain stared at the gates. Silent.
"What kind of city is this?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away.
"The City of the God of Memory. Koffion."
"Oh. Should I make a joke here? Or just go with 'What kind of hellhole is this?'"
When they passed through the gates, the heat changed—became sticky, suffocating. The air reeked of incense, ash, sweat, and cheap perfume. People wandered the streets, laughing, shouting, weeping. Some had glassy eyes. Others—too alive, too bright. Like they weren't theirs anymore.
At every corner, tents stood like twisted market stalls:
— First love!
— Mother's smile!
— Your enemy's last breath!
— The joy of being hugged as a child!
Kooni slowed down.
"This looks like a den. Like the end of being human."
"It is," Cain said softly.
They turned into an alleyway. The narrow shade offered relief from the sun's punishment. Passersby were quiet—silent, as if they'd forgotten how to speak. But one man, a beggar curled near the wall, looked up at Cain and whispered:
"I… I remember you…"
Cain stopped. Turned.
But the man had already crawled back into the shadows, curling into himself.
"He knows you?" Kooni frowned.
"No," Cain said. "No one knows me. Not even me."
The old man twitched. His voice rasped, sticky with desperation:
"Spare a coin…?"
Cain said nothing.
"For a coin, I'll tell you who you are! I saw you… in a memory… a girl's memory… she was laughing… or screaming… can't recall…"
A small glass vial slipped from his sleeve, landing in the dust. Inside, a few pink drops clung to the bottom.
"What the hell is that?" Kooni grimaced.
"A memory," the old man croaked. "An embrace. Nine seconds. That's all I could afford…"
He dragged himself closer, leaving a damp trail in the dust. Clutched at the edge of Cain's cloak. Bit off a thread with yellowed teeth.
"Give… just a drop! A single drop! I'll take your pain! I'll take your memories! All the ones you don't want! All of it!"
Cain yanked the cloak free with one motion.
The old man collapsed, flailing like a fish on dry land, clawing at the air.
"Don't want to forget?! Fool! Idiot! Everyone sells here! Everyone! Everything! Everything!"
He wasn't shouting at them anymore. He was screaming at the sky. And no one answered.
Cain walked on. Wordless.
Kooni caught up a few steps later. Her face had hardened. Her eyes were cold.
"So this is your Memento?
This is what we become when we live for the past?"
Cain didn't respond right away.
"No," he said at last. "This is what's left when you have nothing else."