Chapter 188 Memory Loss

"Open."

Lilith’s voice cut through the moment with her usual edge, and the smart door clicked softly before swinging open.

Standing there was a young Asian woman—petite, sharp-featured, and dressed in a neat black gown. Her long dark hair was flowed behind her. But what caught Lilith’s attention wasn’t the girl.

It was what she was holding.

A single Black Calla Lily, cradled delicately in both hands.

Lilith froze, her golden eyes widening slightly, completely caught off-guard. Her gaze dropped to the flower, stunned into silence. Of all the things to show up at her doorstep today... this?

The girl bowed politely, her voice light and cheerful.

"A young mister asked me to deliver this to you, Miss Lilith."

Lilith didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the flower, her thoughts racing. She never told anyone about her favorite flower. Not her gang. Not her assistants. Not even Liam. It was something she kept to herself. Something personal. Private.

So how the hell...

She finally found her voice, albeit softly.

"What’s his name?"

The girl blinked, then scratched the side of her head as if trying to recall it. "Uh... oh! Liam. His name is Liam."

Lilith’s brows shot up slightly.

Of course.

She slowly reached out and took the flower from the girl’s hands. It was real. Cold to the touch, freshly cut, and tied with a dark silk ribbon. Minimalist, elegant—exactly her taste.

The girl beamed, bowed again, and spun on her heel with surprising energy. She skipped away, humming as she vanished down the corridor.

Lilith stood in the doorway for a second longer, holding the flower, staring after the girl.

What kind of delivery person skips like that? she wondered vaguely. She’d seen all kinds of workers—scared, indifferent, bored—but never this... happy. It was bizarre.

She turned around and stepped back into the apartment.

Her gaze naturally drifted to Liam, who was already watching her from the living room. Their eyes locked, and for the first time in a long while, Lilith didn’t know what to say.

Her fingers tightened around the stem of the flower as she slowly walked toward him.

He’d gotten her the one flower she loved. The one she’d never told a soul about. The one that meant something to her.

And she’d yelled at him earlier. Accused him. Demanded an explanation like he was some kind of irresponsible idiot.

She bit her bottom lip slightly, then stopped just a few feet from him.

"Liam..." she said softly, her voice almost unrecognizable.

She glanced at the flower again, then looked at him.

"It’s beautiful."

Liam blinked, then rolled his eyes.

Lilith froze for a second, thrown off again.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t react to her tone.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t even meet her halfway.

He just turned slightly away from her and muttered, "You sound just like Ann right now. So cringe."

---

Somewhere far away, cold, quiet...

A man’s eye snapped open.

Just one.

The right one.

The left was gone, leaving behind a black, gaping hole where Lilith’s bullet had blown through it.

Boss layed in a medical bed, surrounded by blinking monitors and tangled wires.

He groaned.

His head was spinning. Everything felt wrong. His skull throbbed with a migraine so sharp he could barely keep his eye open. He tried to move, but his body resisted. Weak. Fragile.

Still, he forced himself to sit up.

As he did, several of the machines around him went into a frenzy—flatlining, screaming alarms, flashing red.

His breaths came fast, unsteady.

He looked around the dim room, disoriented. The lights were sterile. The air smelled like metal and antiseptic.

Where the hell was he?

He reached for his head, wincing when his fingers brushed over a thick bandage wrapping around the left side of his skull.

The pain was sharp. Too sharp.

What happened?

He looked down and began ripping off the wires connected to his arms and chest. Adhesive tore off his skin, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to move. To know.

Once free, he slid off the bed, stumbling as his bare feet touched the cold floor.

He staggered toward the window at the far end of the room.

It was night.

Pitch black, save for the faint glow of city lights in the distance.

The moment he opened the window, a breeze hit his face. Cold. Unforgiving. It cleared his head just a little—but not enough.

He heard them before he saw them.

Footsteps.

Shouts.

The door burst open, and several armed men in white tactical gear rushed in. They froze when they saw him—standing there, half-naked, staring out the window like a ghost.

Their guns didn’t rise. Their hands didn’t move.

They just looked at him in stunned silence.

The man turned around slowly.

His one eye locked onto them, unblinking.

"...Who are you?" he asked.

The words were flat. Emotionless. Confused.

The men exchanged glances.

One of them stepped forward, cautiously. "S-Sir... we’re your team. We’ve been watching over you. You were injured—severely. But you’re safe now. You’re—"

"Who am I?" Boss asked again, cutting him off.

This time, his voice was sharper.

Colder.

The gang members didn’t know how to answer.

Boss stared at them. No recognition. No familiarity. Not a flicker of understanding in his gaze.

Just confusion.

Just emptiness.

The scarred socket of his missing eye was like a second mouth, gaping silently at the world as he stood there, lost in a life he couldn’t remember.

A new figure stepped into the room—older, dressed in a long white coat, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His expression was calm, but his steps were firm, deliberate.

"Calm down," the man said gently, raising both hands.

Boss narrowed his one eye, taking a step back. His muscles tensed. He didn’t trust the voice, didn’t trust the face, didn’t trust anyone in this place. Everything about this felt wrong.

The doctor stopped a few feet away, not daring to get closer.

"I’m your doctor," he said softly. "You’ve been unconscious for a day. You suffered serious trauma... memory loss is expected."

Boss didn’t answer. His jaw tightened.

The doctor exhaled.

"I don’t know your real name. No one does," he added. "But they all call you ’Boss.’ You’re the leader of the Crimson Gang."

Boss blinked.

The words echoed in his head like a bomb.