Retrieve My Amnesiac Mother
Rain mixed with mud splattered against my pants, worn thin and faded white from countless washes.
My name is Regina Vance, I am eighteen years old, and I work as a waitress at the Neon nightclub.
Every night, I carry a tray as I weave through drunken patrons, enduring their spiteful gazes.
The old pocket watch in my pocket presses against my waist; inside the cover is a photo of my mother Lyra Allen.
The woman in the photo smiles with crescent eyes, holding five-year-old me, with the amusement park before the apocalypse as the backdrop.
That is my last memory of her.
When I was five, she disappeared outside the air-raid shelter, leaving no trace behind.
And my father Victor Vance searched for her as if he had lost his mind.
He sold off the last valuable belongings in the house, even overexerted his psychic abilities, and eventually became so broken that even zombies were too lazy to attack him.
To support my father and myself, I dropped out of school at thirteen.
The nightclub owner was a man with scars on his face. He always said, "Regina, with that face of yours, if you smiled more, you could earn three times as much."
Each time, I just lowered my head to wipe the glass, not responding.
I knew that in the apocalypse, beauty was a sin.
On my eighteenth birthday, the rain fell especially hard.
I finished work early, pocketed the thirty credit coins I had just earned, and headed down to the basement in the Slum.
The basement was thick with the scent of mildew mixed with disinfectant. My father Victor was curled up in a corner, clutching Lyra's old coat, muttering, "Lyra, where are you... "
I handed him the warm compressed biscuit. He took it, but didn't eat it—only stared blankly at the biscuit.
Then, a mechanical voice suddenly echoed in my mind: "Host adulthood detected; Cross-world kinship system successfully bound."
I was startled; the cup in my hand slipped and shattered into pieces on the floor.
"Who are you?" I glanced around warily; in the basement, there was only my father and me.
"This System is an affiliated agency of the Otherworld Management Bureau, tasked with assisting the host in retrieving the Otherworld's Strategist Lyra Allen."
The mechanical voice spoke without emotion: "Lyra Allen is a resident of the Otherworld who entered the apocalypse fifteen years ago as a Strategist. After completing her mission, her memories were erased, and she returned to her original world."
"Strategist? Memory erased?" I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. "How could she just leave? She abandoned dad and me in the apocalypse, then went back to live a comfortable life?"
Rage burned through me like a relentless flame.
All the hardships and grievances I had endured over the years erupted at that moment.
"System Task: Retrieve Lyra Allen back to the apocalypse to fulfill her responsibilities as a mother. Success grants the Host Healing Ability; failure results in the deletion of Host's world by the System."
I didn't hesitate for a moment. "I accept. No matter which world she's in, I will bring her back and show her the life we've been living!
The mechanical voice paused briefly. "Teleportation preparing, countdown ten minutes. Host, please get ready."
I looked at my father Victor, unaware in the corner, and bent down to cover him with his coat.
"Dad, wait for me. I will bring mom back." I whispered into his ear, my voice trembling in a way I hadn't even noticed.
Ten minutes later, a white light enveloped me.
The musty smell of the basement faded, replaced by fresh air and a faint fragrance of flowers.
When the teleportation ended, I fell onto a patch of grass.
Yellow wildflowers bloomed across the grass, sunlight filtering through the leaves, warm and gentle.
This was my first time seeing a world beyond the apocalypse.
No collapsed buildings, no zombie howls — even the air felt clean.
Not far off, a clean street stretched out, pedestrians dressed neatly, their faces eased with gentle smiles.
I was momentarily dazed, briefly forgetting why I had come here.
"Here, Kitty, don't be afraid. I'll take you to see a doctor." A gentle voice called out.
I turned toward the voice, my heart suddenly tightening.
Near a bench not far away, a woman in a white dress crouched down, cradling an injured stray cat in her arms.
Her hair was light brown, and her eyes were large; when she smiled, small dimples appeared at the corners of her eyes.
It was my mother Lyra Allen.
Though she looked a little more mature than in the photo, I recognized her instantly.
She seemed happy, showing no trace of the apocalypse—like an ordinary college student.
I hurried over and grabbed her wrist. "Lyra, come back with me!"
Lyra froze under my grip, looking at me with confusion. "Hey, you must be mistaken. My name isn't Lyra."
"I'm not mistaken!" I tightened my grip. "You're my mother. You vanished in the apocalypse fifteen years ago. You have to come back with me now!"
Lyra Allen's expression shifted. She struggled to break free from my grip. "Let go of me—I really don't know you."
As we wrestled, a truck suddenly lost control and barreled toward us.
"Watch out!" Lyra shoved me sharply aside.
I stumbled backward a few steps, and when I looked up, I saw the truck slam into Lyra.
"Mom!" I screamed, rushing toward her.
Lyra lay on the ground, her white dress stained a deep red—an agonizing sight.
Crowds gathered quickly; someone was already dialing for an ambulance.
I knelt beside her, my hands trembling violently, wanting to touch her but not daring to.
"Miss, don't panic. The ambulance will be here soon." A bespectacled boy crouched down and handed me a tissue.
Lyra looked at me, a faint smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Don't worry, I... don't feel any pain."
Don't feel any pain?
I was stunned.
With such a severe injury, how could she possibly not feel pain?
The ambulance arrived quickly. Lyra was lifted onto a stretcher, and I followed onto the vehicle.
Outside the emergency room, I was restless and couldn't sit still.
That mechanical voice sounded again: "Severe injury detected in Strategist Lyra Allen. Hidden plot triggered: Lyra's sense of pain has been stripped by an Esper."
"An Esper? Who is it?" I pressed for answers.
"The one who stripped it is Victor's first love — Grace. In the tenth year of the apocalypse, Grace took revenge on Lyra, permanently depriving her of her sense of pain using psychic abilities."
I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails nearly tore the flesh of my palms.
Grace... I remember this woman.
She was a classmate of Victor's. In the early days of the apocalypse, she often came to our home, always looking at mom with eyes full of hostility.
So, Lyra hadn't felt pain at all these years.
The emergency room lights went dark. The doctor stepped out, removed his mask, and said, "The patient is temporarily out of danger, but her condition is unusual—she feels no pain, so recovery will be difficult."
I followed the nurse to the ward. Watching Lyra lie on the bed, my heart ached with pain and anger.
I ached for the suffering she endured, and I was angry that she left without a word all those years ago.
Lyra opened her eyes, saw me, and whispered, "You... who exactly are you? Why are you searching for Lyra Allen?"
I sat by the bedside, took out the pocket watch, and opened its cover. "Look, this is a photo of you and me. I am Regina Vance, your daughter."
Lyra stared at the photo, her eyes gradually clouding, as if trying to recall something.
Looking into Lyra's bewildered eyes, I knew the System was definitely hiding something.
In my mind, I said to the System, "Restore all of Lyra Allen's memories, or I will destroy your core program."
The System was silent for a long time, likely caught off guard by my threat.
"The host has no right to demand full access to the strategist's memories; violation of the rules will result in punishment."
"Punishment?" I sneered coldly, "I have nothing left now, why should I fear your punishment? If you don't summon her, I'll slit my own throat—after all, without my mom, I cannot survive in this apocalypse anyway."
I know the System needs me to complete the task; it will not let me die.
Sure enough, the mechanical voice softened: "Permission temporarily granted. The host may now view Lyra Allen's core memories from the apocalypse."
In the next moment, countless images flooded my mind.
In the images, Lyra had just arrived in the Apocalypse, knowing nothing, chased by zombies—until my father Victor saved her.
After they got together, Victor treated her kindly, but it wasn't long before Grace appeared.
Grace, consumed by jealousy toward Lyra, spread rumors everywhere, claiming Lyra was a "monster from the Otherworld."
Later, Victor's psychic ability began to fail and required a vast amount of Crystal Cores to sustain. Grace claimed she had a solution but forced Victor to choose between her and my mother Lyra.
And my father Victor hesitated, so Lyra's heart grew cold.
Not long after, Lyra discovered she was carrying me.
To protect me, she endured Grace's torment, even having her sense of pain cruelly stripped away by Grace.
It wasn't until I was five that she felt I was capable of surviving in the apocalypse and accepted the System's mission — once completed, she could erase her memories and leave this place of suffering behind.
"She didn't leave voluntarily; she was forced." I covered my mouth, tears slipping down my face uncontrollably.
I had always thought she was selfish, never imagining the weight she bore.
"System Prompt: Strategist Lyra Allen's memories are restoring, expected to fully awaken within twenty-four hours."
I leapt to my feet. "No! I can't let her recover her memories!"
Lyra has suffered enough; I cannot let her relive the pain of the apocalypse.
I began to furiously attack the System in my mind: "You broken System, on what grounds do you control others' memories? I will destroy you!"
"Host behavior violation! Warning! Warning!" the System's voice sharpened. "If destruction continues, the System will forcibly purge the Host!"
"Purge then!" My eyes were red. "I will never let you hurt my mom again!"
At that moment, the ward door was pushed open.
The doctor entered, holding the medical chart. "Regina, Lyra's condition is a bit unstable. Do you want to..."
The doctor hadn't finished speaking when Lyra suddenly opened her eyes. She looked at me, her voice trembling, "Regina? Is that you?"
I was stunned—Mom had already regained her memory.
Lyra reached out, trying to touch my face, but weakened, her hand stopped midair. "Regina, I'm sorry, I back then..."
"Mom, don't say any more." I held her hand; it was cold. "It's all in the past. I don't blame you."
Tears fell onto the back of her hand. Her body trembled, then she began to cry too.
She and I cried for a long time in the ward, releasing all the grievances and longing we had held onto over the years.
On the second day after Lyra regained her memory, the System appeared again.
"Host, please be advised: the spatial tunnel between the Otherworld and the apocalypse is about to close."
The mechanical voice carried a pressing urgency: "There are two choices now: first, take Lyra Allen back to the apocalypse to harness her Otherworld energy to stabilize the apocalypse, which is on the brink of collapse; second, return alone to the apocalypse and accept the world's doomed destruction."
I stared at her, still fragile on the hospital bed, and felt as though my heart was being sliced by a knife.
If I take her back, she will have to face the agony of the apocalypse once again; if I don't, everyone—including me and those trapped in the apocalypse—will die.
"Is there no other way?" I asked the System, my voice trembling with desperation.
"There isn't. This is the final ultimatum. Countdown: twelve hours."
I sat on the bench outside the ward, my mind tangled in confusion.
Then, a sudden wave of warmth spread through my palm.
I opened my hand, and a faint green light rose from its center.
"Is this... a Healing Ability?" I stared at my hand in stunned disbelief.
The System's voice rang out: "The Host has awakened the Healing Ability early due to a strong desire to protect."
I immediately stood up and rushed into the ward.
I held Lyra's hand, slowly channeling the Healing Ability into her body.
A pale green light enveloped her; her complexion gradually grew rosy, and her wounds healed at a visibly swift pace.
"Regina, you..." Lyra looked at me in surprise.
"Mom, I've awakened the Healing Ability." I smiled, though tears slipped down uncontrollably. "I can heal you now."
The twelve-hour countdown soon reached its end.
A spatial tunnel appeared outside the ward window, glowing with a soft white light.
"Host, please make your choice." The System's voice echoed once more.
I helped Lyra tuck in the blanket and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Mom, live well here."
"Regina, are you going back?" Lyra grasped my hand, her eyes filled with reluctance.
"Yes." I nodded. "There are still many people waiting for me in the apocalypse; I can't abandon them."
"But..."
"Mom, listen to me." I cut her off. "You've done too much for dad and me already. Now it's time to live for yourself. This world is beautiful, and you deserve to be happy here."
The light from the spatial tunnel grew ever brighter; I knew it was time for me to go.
I cast one last glance at her, then turned toward the tunnel and said, "My mom deserves happiness more than anyone!"
The moment I stepped into the tunnel, I heard Lyra call my name from behind, her voice trembling with tears.
I did not look back; I feared that if I did, I would never find the will to leave.
Returning to the apocalypse, I found myself once again in the familiar basement.
Victor was still curled up in the corner, clutching mom's old coat to his chest.
I walked up to the mirror and stared at my wild pink hair—that color was dyed to catch the eye of nightclub customers.
Without a moment's hesitation, I picked up the scissors and cut.
The pink strands fell to the floor like broken petals.
"From today on, I will be Regina Vance again—not a nightclub waitress, but Regina Vance who wants to survive." I spoke these words to the reflection staring back at me.
The next day, I took my saved credit coins and went to the only middle school in the slum to complete the re-enrollment process.
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