“Now, please focus your mind.”

The hypnotist’s voice echoed through the chilly room.

“You are in a deep, dark cave where no one has ever been. Like a mother’s womb…”

A cold voice cut him off.

“That terrible metaphor is making it hard to concentrate.”

Sweat beaded on the hypnotist’s broad forehead, which was starting to go bald.

“Then I’ll burn more incense for you.”

“Forget the incense.”

The patient spoke in a low but firm tone.

The hypnotist sighed, seemingly resigned, and continued with his work.

The only light in the dim room came from a lamp placed in the center. The embers in the fireplace, lit long ago, were gradually dying out. The cold air crept beneath their clothes.

The hypnotist, absorbed in his work, paid no mind.

“You push through the cave, through the thick darkness. One step, one step at a time… Imagine yourself walking slowly. Nothing obstructs you.”

Clatter.

Even at the perfectly timed interruption, the patient didn’t open his closed eyes. Only the hypnotist turned irritably toward the intruder.

The source of the noise was a maid bringing tea.

The young maid bowed her head in apology. She was a woman as pale as the white apron tied over her gray dress.

Though she lowered her head, the maid didn’t seem particularly apologetic. She clearly had never heard of Dr. Gaskel’s reputation as the kingdom’s finest hypnotist—no, authority on psychiatric medicine.

The doctor glared at her and gestured toward a corner of the room. Stay there quietly and don’t interfere.

He didn’t chase her out of the room because it would be disastrous if the patient had a seizure. The young man already had a history. The diminutive doctor couldn’t restrain him alone.

The maid quietly took her place in the corner.

Only then, reassured, did the doctor focus on the patient again.

The man lying stretched out on the couch, surrendering himself to this hypnosis of unproven effectiveness, was very young. His long legs, which the chair couldn’t fully accommodate, hung in the air. 

His serene face drew more attention than his slender frame. Due to his lack of vitality, his beauty stood out even more, and even Dr. Gaskel, now somewhat accustomed to it, occasionally found himself mesmerized.

The firelight made the young man’s hair gleam with a dull golden sheen. It covered his lightly furrowed brow. His long eyelashes, veiling both eyes, twitched.

‘His consciousness is still clear.’

The doctor gestured to the maid with displeasure.

Waving his hand through the air, alternating between the incense burner and the lamp, the woman barely understood his instructions and sluggishly followed them.

Whether she was newly hired or not, the maid was incredibly slow. 

Compared to that voluptuous woman from last time, her figure was also disappointingly meager—there would be no fun in sneaking a pinch of her bottom. The doctor smacked his lips.

Soon two more incense sticks were added to the burner. The scent of dried herbs that had been subtly permeating the room grew thicker.

The doctor took out a mask and put it on. Only his eyes gleamed above it as he watched the patient’s condition.

Despite appearances, Dr. Gaskel was a pioneer in the field of “treating memory disorders through hypnosis.” 

The treatment’s effectiveness had been proven by the Royal Academy and the dozens of ladies he had treated. His widely known reputation eventually reached the royal court.

The king summoned Gaskel to discuss “a matter of utmost importance and secrecy.”

“If you succeed in restoring Ronenfeld’s memory, Doctor, I will appoint you as president of the Royal Academy. For life.”

Gaskel eagerly took the bait on which his and his family’s future depended.

Since the king gave no hints, at first Gaskel felt like he was the one groping through a cave. 

Without knowing what to look for, the treatment period would inevitably lengthen. Moreover, the patient’s attitude was utterly uncooperative.

Only recently had the doctor barely succeeded in getting the patient to lie down on this long chair. That was also why he had to use more than the standard amount of anamnesis—the incense of recollection.

Still, the incense was effective.

The patient’s breathing gradually slowed. The doctor carefully spoke.

“At last, you reach the center of the cave. In the deepest part of the cave lies a lake. Much darker and… deeper than the cave you just passed through. So deep you cannot see the bottom.”

The young man didn’t answer. But he was clearly listening to these words. No, the doctor’s words were penetrating his unconscious.

This was the important part.

“Stand at the edge of the lake and calmly gaze at the surface. While thinking about what lies beneath… until your mind settles peacefully.”

“……”

“Once your mind has settled, now take one step into the lake. Don’t worry, it’s not cold. Now, slowly…”

Most patients recoil at this point. Because they fear facing their memories, or the truths hidden deep within.

‘I don’t know what His Majesty the King is looking for, but…’

Then again, he’d heard this man served as a commander in the last war. Perhaps hundreds of military secrets were stored in that handsome head. Or enemy intelligence, perhaps.

Gaskel gently urged him.

“Enter the lake.”

“……”

This time he could definitely sense hesitation. The doctor knew from experience that some patients needed to be waited for, while others needed encouragement.

Which type was this man?

Judging by his attitude so far, he was likely not to comply readily. The doctor’s tone grew forceful.

“What fills the lake is not water. You already know what lies within—”

Crash!

The patient flinched. Gaskel turned around in surprise. The maid, holding a poker in one hand, looked down at the fallen fender with a troubled expression.

Just when things were going so well.

The doctor’s anger flared.

“Who told you to move on your own!”

“The room seemed cold, so I was trying to light the fire…”

The maid made excuses. Without a trace of remorse, which only fueled the doctor’s rage.

“You had to do that right now? You stupid thing…!”

“The physician said to always keep the fire going.”

A brazen retort came back. Hearing that the advice of some country doctor took precedence over the treatment of Gaskel, a Royal Academy member and psychiatric specialist, made the doctor absolutely livid.

“So you interrupt the treatment? And why did you open the door so wide? Don’t you know the basics of incense therapy!”

“I was trying to ventilate.”

“Shut up! You’re fired, fired! Get out right now!”

The doctor shouted. Still, the maid stubbornly set the fallen fender upright and poked through the stove with the poker. The flames that rose made the room much brighter.

“What are you doing? I said get out!”

A low voice interrupted.

“I don’t recall giving the doctor authority over the household as well.”

Gaskel turned his head in confusion. The patient, now fully conscious, sat up. Shadows from the flames rippled across his weary face.

“Lower your voice. It’s only making my head hurt more.”

“Your… your head hurts…?”

The headache was a side effect of hypnosis—more precisely, of anamnesis. The young man’s gaze fixed on the mask. The doctor quickly removed it.

“Ah, this… well, to avoid spitting on the patient’s forehead…”

“Then put it back on.”

The young man said irritably.

“Will you lie back down? I’ll send that useless thing away.”

The doctor glanced at the maid standing by the stove.

“Didn’t you hear me say my head hurts?”

“I brought medicine that works well. If you take it and rest for a while…”

“We’re done for today.”

The young man was firm.

He couldn’t force treatment on an unwilling patient. Especially with this kind of treatment, the trust between doctor and patient was paramount.

‘But I must report progress to His Majesty the King…’

The doctor swallowed nervously.

“Well, in this environment, the treatment will struggle to be effective. Distractions and all… So, why not come to Flösen for treatment instead? There are specialized facilities there.”

“Why should I? Aren’t you the one desperate for my memories?”

The young man seemed to have lost patience due to his headache. He waved his hand dismissively.

“Leave. I’ll call you again if I need you.”

“But… Your Grace.”

While the doctor hesitated, the maid brought his medical bag and coat. The doctor accepted them awkwardly.

The host, tired of dealing with the troublesome guest, now gave orders to the maid.

“Show him out.”

The maid nodded and pushed the doctor toward the door.

“Please leave now.”

“Don’t touch me so carelessly!”

Though being kicked out, the doctor vented his anger on the innocent maid.

“You ruined everything…! You’ll have to pay my bill!”

Heavy footsteps followed, then the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs.

Only then did the house return to its usual quiet. The young man sat weakly with his hand on his head.

When the maid returned, he was still sitting in the same position.

The maid began tidying the room quickly and quietly.

She opened the window, extinguished the incense, and placed the untouched tea back on the tray. Her movements were nimble, quite different from the sluggishness she’d shown earlier. Her face, briefly revealed in the lamplight, was clear and pretty.

The man, catching a glimpse of that face, said in surprise.

“You’re… not Mrs. Zellen.”

The woman clasped her hands together politely, like a greeting.

“Mrs. Zellen quit last week. I’m her replacement.”

“Mrs. Zellen…?”

A bitter smile appeared on his face as he repeated the name.

“Ah, right. She was too delicate to care for a madman like me.”

The maid neither confirmed nor denied it. Her predecessor had quit not so much from being delicate, but from accumulated complaints born of a sensitive nature.

“Last month the butler quit…”

“Mrs. Zellen told me so.”

“And yet you came to work here.”

He muttered. Though the estate was truly desolate without the butler’s touch, the maid Rosalie didn’t bother pointing that out either.

“The pay is good.”

He rubbed his face. Understanding this meant he was tired, she quietly withdrew.

“My name is Rosalie. Ring the bell if you need anything.”

He nodded. The silver bell on the mantelpiece hadn’t rung once since she’d arrived at this house.

With his trembling hands resting on his knees, the man sat upright facing the window, looking like he could remain in that position forever. He seemed to have already forgotten the presence of the unfamiliar maid.

Rosalie wondered if he’d even remember her name.