After losing my memory, I forgot I was the villainess of the story. I sent a group text to my close contacts: [Sorry, I have amnesia. Who is this…?] Four messages instantly popped up on my phone. The aloof childhood friend I used to torment: [Is this some new way to torture me? Your food is downstairs. Remember to eat.] The loyal adopted brother I used to boss around: [Still mad at your big bro? Sent some cash to your card. I'll be home tonight to hang out.] The cool heroine I used to prank: [Starting with the drama again? If you've lost your memory, go back to sleep. I signed you in for class.] Me: "?" Wait… was I the star of a 'pampered princess' story or something? 1. Doctors and nurses bustled back and forth in the hospital room, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic. I pushed myself up, my head swimming. Not far away, a doctor was speaking with a middle-aged man. "How is she doing now?" "Miss Sterling's amnesia isn't too severe at the moment. She's just forgotten certain specific people…" Listening to their conversation, I froze. Amnesia? How could I have amnesia? "I don't think I have amnesia!" I couldn't help but interrupt. "I remember my name is Flora Sterling, my dad is Howard Sterling, and my mom is Clara Vanderbilt." The middle-aged man turned to me, his voice patient. "Then do you remember my name, miss?" I nodded eagerly. "Of course! You're my family's butler, Uncle Lee." The man was silent for a long moment, his expression complex. "Miss… I'm your family's driver. And my name is Evans, not Lee." Me: "?" He sighed and turned back to the doctor. "Thank you for your hard work. I'll go contact her parents now." From their brief chat, I gathered that I had accidentally fallen down a flight of stairs at the library and was brought to the hospital by a classmate after I passed out. Once they left the room, I finally came to my senses and started flipping through my phone. If it weren't for my parents' familiar names in my pinned contacts, I would've thought I'd picked up a stranger's phone. Just then, two messages came in from a contact named "Cold-hearted Monster." [Be downstairs in thirty minutes to get your takeout.] [I'm not wasting my time finding someone to bring it up to you.] I racked my brain but couldn't place him. I could only ask: [Are you buying me lunch?] He replied almost instantly, every word dripping with sarcasm. [It is my duty to procure lunch for my lady.] [But next time, could you please give advance notice if you want something from off-campus?] [Otherwise, a thirty-minute wait in line might delay your mealtime.] Well, you're certainly polite, I thought. But food wasn't the priority right now. I quickly replied: [No need, I'm not eating today.] He was silent for a moment. Though I couldn't see his face, I could feel a wave of irritation radiating from the screen. [Is this because the breakfast I brought wasn't to your liking?] [So you're angry again?] I rushed to explain: [No, it's because I have amnesia qwq.] He shot back derisively: [Is this some new method the great Flora Sterling has devised to torture me?] Me: "?" Was I really that horrible? Afraid he wouldn't believe me, I sent him a picture. [I'm not lying, I'm still in a hospital bed.] A long time passed with no reply. He had either fainted from anger or couldn't be bothered with me anymore. I scrolled through our chat history. This "Cold-hearted Monster" was apparently responsible for getting my meals, picking up my packages, and buying me bubble tea. Sometimes, he even did my homework and let me copy his answers for exams. My attitude toward him, however, was far from friendly. My tone was bossy and demanding. A pang of guilt washed over me. How could I talk to a classmate like that? "Flora—" The hospital room door was suddenly flung open, and a boy rushed in. He wore a simple white t-shirt, his features sharp and handsome. Even the fingers holding the takeout container were long and elegant. I found myself staring. Some people might lose their memories, but their appreciation for beauty remains unchanged. My standards for my ideal type certainly hadn't. I looked up at him and asked tentatively, "And you are?" His body went rigid. He pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping. "You don't remember who I am?" I frowned, thinking hard. "Are you the Cold-hearted Monster?" His expression was complicated. "…My name is Christian." Christian reached out as if to check the wound on my forehead. "You fell down the stairs? Is it serious?" Seeing me freeze, he stiffly lowered his hand, his tone turning cold again. "I'm not worried about you. I'm worried you hit your head and will try to blame it on me again." His few words painted a vivid picture of my former selfish, willful self. My guilt deepened. Seeing me silent, he asked again in a low voice, "You really don't remember me?" I answered honestly. "I don't. But from our chat history, it looks like you're the one who runs all my errands." Christian: "…Not exactly." I looked up, confused. He took a deep breath. "We're childhood friends." When I didn't say anything, Christian added coolly, "And, of course, there was the childhood betrothal." I was stunned. "What? But our chat history doesn't look like that at all…" I thought he was just a classmate I didn't know well. Christian let out a humorless laugh. "If it weren't for that, who would willingly be your errand boy every day?!" "Who would go out of their way to buy your meals and save you a seat?" "But you just said it was your duty to get my meals," I argued, confused. Christian lifted his eyes slightly. "Yes. Isn't that the duty of a fiancé?" Just then, our driver, Mr. Evans, walked back in. He looked surprised to see Christian. "Christian? What are you doing here?" Christian stood up politely and greeted him with a smile. "I came to see her." Mr. Evans was about to sit down when Christian's next words made him jump back to his feet. "By the way, Mr. Evans, Flora doesn't believe that we grew up together." "Could you tell her? That we're already engaged." Mr. Evans's eyes widened. "Huh?" He glanced at Christian's perfectly calm face, then at my bewildered one. After a moment of profound consideration, he nodded with a complex expression. "Yes… that is indeed the case." 2. The first person I saw when I woke up was Mr. Evans. He had been running around handling my paperwork and contacting my parents, so I had already developed a certain trust in him. And Christian didn't look like he was joking. A secret joy bloomed in my heart. My ideal type had just transformed into my fiancé. I've hit the jackpot! It must be true, then. Even with amnesia, you still fall for the one you were always meant to be with. When Mr. Evans stepped out to take a call, Christian placed the food container on the small table and handed me a bowl and chopsticks. "Eat first." I glanced at the food and smiled. "What a coincidence, these are all my favorites." Christian ladled soup into my bowl, his voice even. "It's not a coincidence. This is the menu you specifically requested this morning." My guilt returned. "…Was it too much trouble for you?" Christian wiped his hands with a napkin, his tone detached. "It's not just today that's been a trouble." "I'm used to it." A wave of pity washed over me. I tugged on his sleeve. "Then let's eat together?" Christian's body stiffened. He rubbed his nose and cleared his throat. "I only bought one serving." I was confused again. "Don't we usually eat together?" Christian turned to look out the window. "…We do. I just… already ate today." I didn't doubt him and ate with peace of mind. While he was drinking some water, I chattered away between bites of food. "You know, Christian, the first time I saw you, I felt like I was starting to remember things." He choked on his water, coughing violently, nearly losing his composure. "You're remembering?" Christian's voice sounded strange, losing the calm self-possession he'd had when he first arrived. I nodded. "Yes. The moment I saw you, I thought, we look so good together." "It really must be because we're engaged. You truly are my fated husband." I grinned. "And even though I have amnesia, my standards for my ideal type haven't changed." "My dream husband is just like you." Christian: "…" A faint blush crept up his handsome face, and the tips of his ears turned crimson. He shot up from his chair, nearly knocking over the table. Me: "?" Christian struggled to compose himself, but his flushed cheeks betrayed his true feelings. He held up his phone. "Uh… I just got a notification from my research group. I have to go back." "I have to turn in some materials for my advisor this afternoon." I was very understanding. "Then you should hurry back! I'm much better now. I'll probably be fine after a little rest this afternoon." Christian nodded, his voice softening. "I'll come back to see you later tonight." He practically fled the room. I couldn't help but sigh. Being a grad student these days seems so tough. A message from your advisor is like a summons from the grim reaper. Mr. Evans returned just then, surprised to find me alone. "Christian left?" I nodded, smiling. "Yes. He said he'd be back later." Mr. Evans looked relieved, then began to discuss the next steps with me. "The doctor thinks it would be best for a family member to come to the hospital." "Your parents are abroad and can't get back right away. Should I contact your brother?" Brother? I have a brother? Seeing my blank expression, Mr. Evans looked as if he expected it. He took my phone, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it back. "This is your brother." I looked down. A profile picture of a beagle wearing sunglasses stared back at me. The contact name: "Human ATM" Our chat history was sparse, mostly consisting of transfer records from him. And whenever someone made me angry, he was the first to take care of it, with the speed of a paid subscription service. "Flora, you probably don't remember, but Derek is your brother. Not by blood, he was adopted by your parents." "He's three years older than you and has always taken good care of you," Mr. Evans explained. I understood. I sent a message to the contact. [Bro.] He replied almost instantly. With fifty consecutive question marks. I didn't understand his surprise, but I dutifully typed on. [Are you free right now?] Human ATM: [Yeah! What's up? Who bullied you again?] Human ATM: [Send me their info, I'll go sort them out.] Human ATM: [Need cash? Sending it now.] Human ATM: [Also what did you just call me? Can you say it again TvT…] What a strange brother. And what a strange request. But I obliged him: [Brother, can you come to the hospital?] Another string of question marks appeared. Then, a voice call request popped up. I've always hated answering calls. Amnesia hadn't changed that. I ruthlessly declined it. Human ATM: [? Why didn't you answer? What happened?] Human ATM: [Is this a scammer?!] Human ATM: [Phone scammers can rot in hell. Give her phone back or I'll end you.] Me: […Don't want to answer the phone. Too lazy.] Human ATM: [Oh, it's you.] Me: [I have amnesia.] Another row of question marks. It really fit his profile picture. Human ATM: [So do you still remember who I am?] I was getting annoyed. [Yes, you're my brother, aren't you?] Human ATM: [Yes, yes!! I'm your favorite brother!!] Please stop adding your own weird adjectives, I thought. I pretended not to see it: [If you have time, can you come to the hospital? The doctor wants to see a family member.] Human ATM: [Send me the address.] After sending the location, I added, fearing he might worry: [Don't worry, it's not serious.] Human ATM: [Okay, big bro will be there soon ^^.] I reassured him: [No rush, Mr. Evans is with me. My fiancé just came to see me too.] There was a moment of silence from his end. Then, a rapid-fire string of shocked question marks. Human ATM: [Fiancé?? Who the FUCK is he!!?]
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