Chapter 9: The Man Who Forgot
The hospital room buzzed with the soft hum of machines, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Kim sat beside the bed, his eyes heavy with sleepless nights and his suit wrinkled from days of staying by Leo's side. Outside the large window, gray clouds drifted slowly across the sky, as if mourning too.
Leo hadn't moved for two days. His chest rose and fell mechanically, kept alive by quiet beeps and tubes. Doctors said the shock had pushed him over the edge—the man he had loved and hated in equal measure, Kai, was dead.
Kim glanced down at his boss, remembering how Leo had collapsed beside Kai's lifeless body, begging him to stay. "You can't leave me... Not after everything." That broken cry still haunted Kim's ears.
He stood up to adjust the blanket when Leo's fingers twitched.
Kim froze.
Then, slowly—painfully—Leo opened his eyes.
"Boss?" Kim's voice cracked. "Leo? You're awake… thank God."
Leo blinked, unfocused. He looked around the room like he didn't recognize it. Then, his eyes landed on Kim—blank, unreadable.
"Why are you calling me that?" Leo said softly, his voice hoarse.
Kim laughed nervously. "What? Come on. It's me. Kim. You're Leo—Leo Kwon. You scared the hell out of me."
But Leo's frown only deepened.
"I think you're mistaken," he said quietly. "My name's Jun."
Kim's heart stopped.
He took a shaky step back. "Jun…?"
"I don't know who Leo is," the man in the bed said again, more firmly this time. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
Kim rushed out into the hallway, heart pounding. "Nurse!" he shouted. "Something's wrong. He doesn't recognize me—he's calling himself someone else!"
The nurse arrived in seconds, quickly checking vitals. "He's responsive," she said. "But… I need to call the senior physician. This could be post-traumatic amnesia."
Kim backed away in disbelief. "No… This can't be happening."
Just then, the double doors at the end of the hallway swung open. Two people walked in—a woman with elegant grace and a man with stern eyes. Leo's adoptive parents.
They hurried into the room. The man stood near the foot of the bed, watching silently. The woman rushed to Leo's side and took his hand gently.
"My baby…" she whispered.
Leo looked up at her and blinked. Then his eyes widened. "Mom?"
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Yes… yes, sweetie. It's me."
"Why do I have all these bandages? What happened to my face?" He raised a shaking hand to the scars across his temple and neck. "I… I look terrible. I don't remember anything."
"You were in an accident," his mother said quickly. "You're safe now. Nothing matters except that you're here with us."
The doctor entered and pulled Kim and Leo's adoptive father aside. "He's suffering from dissociative amnesia," he said. "The trauma—emotional and physical—was too much. His mind created a new identity as protection."
Kim clenched his fists. "So he doesn't remember Kai? Or anything?"
The doctor shook his head. "He remembers nothing from the past five years. Possibly longer. For now, he believes his name is Jun. We can't force him to remember—it could worsen the damage."
Leo's adoptive father, voice cold and heavy, finally spoke. "Then we don't let him remember. If the past is what broke him, then we bury it."
"But—" Kim protested.
"No." The older man stared him down. "My son's heart is weak. He nearly died once because of what he went through. I won't let him go through it again. From this moment, he's Jun. And he's going far away from this world."
—
One Year Later
The sun blazed down on the open racing grounds, engines roaring like beasts ready to hunt. The crowd roared as tires screeched and dirt flew.
"And once again, the winner—Jun, riding Red Viper! Seven wins this season!" the announcer bellowed through the speakers.
Jun removed his helmet, sweat-slicked hair falling over his eyes. His lips curved in a lazy smile. "That was fun," he muttered, tossing the helmet onto his bike.
He was no longer the sharp, stone-faced businessman people once feared. Now, Jun was fire. Wild. Fast. Untouchable.
On the sidelines, his friends cheered.
Tim ran up first. Small, cheerful, and always a spark of chaos. "Bro! You smoked that track again!"
Jun grinned. "When don't I?"
William appeared next—cool, cocky, and trailed by his silent partner East. The two were inseparable. William slapped Jun's back. "Showoff. Trying to beat your own record again?"
East scoffed softly. "As if anyone else even stands a chance."
Jun laughed. "I live for this now. The thrill. The speed. I don't care about boring offices or empires. This is my kingdom."
He didn't remember the one he'd once ruled. He didn't remember the empire he'd built, or the man he had loved and lost.
His father had made sure of that.
Back home, his stepsister Lia had taken over the business. Smart, elegant, and fiercely protective, she had chosen to handle the weight of the empire so Jun wouldn't have to.
"I don't want him to remember pain," she'd told her parents. "Let him be wild, free… even if he forgets us all."
Jun lived fast, partied harder. Bars, dance floors, racing circuits—he was a different man now.
But deep inside him… something still twisted. Something buried. A wound that never healed.
—
Later That Night
A club downtown pulsed with neon and sound. Jun leaned against the bar, whiskey in hand, eyes scanning the crowd. Music vibrated through the floor, but his mind felt oddly detached.
Tim had dragged him here to celebrate his win. But Jun didn't feel like celebrating.
He felt… restless.
"Hey," someone said, brushing past him aggressively.
Jun turned, irritated. A man in leather shoved one of Tim's friends aside.
"Watch it," Jun growled.
The man sneered. "What's a pretty boy like you gonna do?"
Fists flew before words could finish. Jun moved like instinct, like rage awakened from inside his blood. The fight escalated quickly, and soon fists and bottles clashed across the floor.
Jun landed a hit that sent one man tumbling—
And then another figure entered.
The air changed.
A tall, quiet man stepped into the chaos. His eyes were unreadable, his fists calm, but deadly. Without a word, he took down two of the brawlers with brutal ease.
Jun turned, panting, his cheek bleeding.
Their eyes met.
The man was like shadow and steel. Not too loud. Not too aggressive. Just dangerous.
"Who the hell are you?" Jun asked, breathless.
The man tilted his head. "Name's Yan. You?"
Jun hesitated. The thudding of music faded behind the silence between them.
"…Jun."
But somewhere in that sile
nce, behind Yan's eyes—there was a flicker.
Recognition?
Or something deeper?
Jun didn't know.
But Yan stared like he was seeing a ghost.