TWO| --.- ..- .- .-.. .. ..-. -.--

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"Stay still," the tired woman in front of you spoke, you obeying but stiff as she approached you. You were in a small room and had been escorted there immediately after the show; you protesting as you were treated like baggage after just being the star.

The room looked fairly like an office cubicle or a principles office, but something about it was very much off. In a room such as this when you had been alive, you would have been afraid of punishment by a higher person. Now you were afraid of the moving shadows on the wall and the constant feeling that someone was behind you no matter how many times you had whirled around to prove this false.

Along with the moving shadows that had unidentifiable sources, the walls also sported many clocks. You didn't examine them closely due to all the other things that captured your attention, but they were definitely different from the clocks you knew when you were alive. That much you were sure of. For some reason, each clock only had one hand that seemed to move so slowly that they didn't even look to be moving at all. 

Also littered against the peeling wallpaper were scattered numbers engraved in the walls and a bulletin board with many papers pinned to it. The tired but normal looking woman that seemed to work there sat at a simple desk that supported only an old looking computer, a printer, a paper shredder, and a few other odd looking devices. Like the one she has holding against your neck. You flinched a bit as you felt the device touch your skin and a beeping noise was heard.

You felt like an item at a grocery store. 

You were a bit hesitant to talk, but the moment you took notice of the woman's neck and saw that she sported the number '95', you knew you had to try. 

"Ma'am, please," You began, attempting to calm your trembling voice while your eyes darted about to make sure no one else was around. "I-I just have so many questions. Can you help me?"

You watched as the woman simply walked back to her office chair and sat down; pushing the device that had just scanned your neck into the computer like a USB. After a few clicks, she looked up at you. She seemed to be in her 40s and had blond hair that was pulled into a bun. Her eyes had bags under them however, and although sharply dressed she looked a bit disoriented. Stray hairs had fallen from her bun that she brushed behind her ear as she looked at you. 

"I will answer what I can and give you information while  your records load. It's my job after all. I know you must be scared and confused, especially because you're sort of young, but trust me, it's not uncommon. I'm here to get you set up and adjusted."

She attempted to smile at you, but it seemed a bit weak. Your eyes flickered down to her shirt to see a silver plated badge that revealed the name "Chloe".

She has her name?

"Um, wow I don't even know where to start," You spoke with nervous laughter. She didn't laugh with you. You swallowed hard. "Well, for one... I'm really... dead?" You still half hoped it was all a joke, but the woman's serious eyes said otherwise.

"Yes."

"And I don't remember a thing..."

"Yes."

"So apparently I have to earn my memories back?"

"Yes again."

"But I did earn a memory back... and I don't remember it. Does that make sense? It says I died because of some guy named Park Jimin, but I don't remember or know a Park Jimin and I don't remember dying to begin with. Aren't I supposed to have the memory?" 

Her eyes flickered down to the piece of paper you still had clenched in your hands before responding. 

"They aren't really... memories per say," She explained, "Showmanship phrase. It's simply information. Information about you."

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