Episode 32 : The Land That’s Not Remembered

Episode 32 : The Land That’s Not Remembered
The silver spoon in Rae’s hand moved slowly inside her chamomile tea. The pale yellow liquid barely stirred, but the soft clink of metal against porcelain echoed sharply in the quiet room.

Across the table, Kenny looked calm. He sat back comfortably, eating his omelet and pistachio toast from a matte gray ceramic plate. A thin tablet rested beside him, showing a global news feed.

“Western sector development project moves faster,” Kenny read softly, more to himself than to her. “Investments are up. Property values rose thirteen percent in just one week.”

Rae didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the cup she hadn’t even touched.
Inside her mind, a small voice repeated: “The longer I stay in this house, the more I forget what I was fighting for....”

Mornings like this used to mean rushing, either for a broadcast, or a community meeting. Now, mornings came too quietly, as if made to make someone forget what it felt like to have purpose.

Kenny glanced up. “Rae… You don’t like the tea?”
Rae shrugged. “No, it’s not the tea...”

Kenny chuckled lightly and looked back at his tablet. “Sometimes mornings can feel… too quiet, right? But isn’t that what we need?”
Rae turned to him slowly. “We? What do you mean 'We'?”

Kenny didn’t answer right away. He lifted his espresso cup and sipped slowly. 
Then, with a tone as casual as talking about the weather, he said, “A life with no noise. No pressure. No wounds from the past…”

Rae looked at him for a few seconds, then finally spoke. Her voice was soft but steady.
“Kenny… can I visit my mom’s house this week?”

Kenny stopped chewing. He set his spoon down gently beside the plate, as if that small action was part of something larger. His smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes grew deeper, darker.

“I thought you were feeling calmer here, Rae…” he said. “But if you really need it… I’ll think about it.”

Rae gave a small nod. She knew it wasn’t a yes. Not even a maybe. But she also knew pushing harder would only make things worse.

Kenny added, almost as if trying to soften the moment, “But... why now? You seem okay here.”
“I just… want to see something. I miss my home,” Rae answered simply.

Kenny only looked at her. Then he went back to his toast, as if the conversation had drifted away with the wind. But something in the air had already changed..... cold, invisible, but hanging like a fog.



That afternoon, Rae sat alone in the reading room. A photo of her mother which the only one she had left, rested on the small table. She gently wiped the frame with her thumb, then closed her eyes.

“Mom’s cooking… the smell of warm soup, her quiet laugh in that tiny kitchen, and the old radio playing songs in the background. I miss that life so much…”

She took a deep breath. When she opened her tablet to check for notifications, a small headline caught her attention. Plain and short:
“Southern Coastal Zone Clearance Begins — Public Safety Comes First.”

She clicked it...

A few short paragraphs explained that parts of the city’s southern area had been deemed unstable, shifting ground, aging structures, high fire risk. The city government was working with private sector to take action against these old buildings.

One photo was included: an open field with red tape stretched across a broken wooden fence.

Rae squinted. Something about it looked familiar. But her thoughts were still foggy.
She didn’t realize that her childhood home was one of the buildings being mentioned.



Later in the afternoon, Rae stood near the front door, wearing a light jacket and flat shoes. Kenny came out of his office, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Where are you going?” he asked, voice calm but with a quiet kind of watchfulness.
“Just out for a bit. I want to get some fresh air,” Rae said, offering a little smile.

Kenny stepped closer. “It might not be a good day, Rae.... There were reports of a small disturbance downtown. Nothing serious... but I don’t want you taking that chance.”

Rae stayed silent....

Then Kenny added, “Or... do you want me to come with you?”
Rae shook her head quickly. “No need. I just need... a moment alone.”

Kenny smiled. But this time, the smile looked more like a line drawn on paper which straight, unmoving.
“Maybe tomorrow would be better,” he said quietly.

He paused, then added, “This house has a pretty big garden too, you know. You can get some air there, safer than going out, Rae.”

Rae didn’t answer. She simply took off her jacket, then walked back to her room.
'A golden cage doesn’t need a lock to make someone give up.'



Night fell like a sheet of dark cloth covering the glass windows. Rae waited until she heard Kenny’s footsteps fade away toward the east wing of the house, then she walked quietly to his working room.

The door wasn’t locked.

She stepped in, and the lights turned on automatically. The room smelled like wood and metal. On the long desk, stacks of project documents were neatly arranged, as if someone obsessed with control had placed them that way.

Among the piles, one folder was slightly open. A label on the corner read: “Southern Coastal Land Clearance.”
Rae’s heart began to beat faster. She pulled it gently and opened it.

Inside were aerial photos, soil reports, and area maps marked in red. One of them showed an open patch of land she remembered from childhood. Ruins, broken walls, and... a gate she had seen before.

She didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps getting closer.
Tap... Tap... Tap....

She quickly shut the folder and slid it back into the pile. When she stepped out of the room, the hallway was quiet again. No one was there.
But the feeling stayed in her body, like being chased by something she couldn’t see.



On the south side of the city that night, heavy machines started moving quietly.

Spotlights lit up an old house that had barely survived a fire. Red tape waved in the wind. The sound of engines growled, like hungry animals finally let loose.
The first wall fell with no fight. The roof followed. Dust rose into the air, mixed with the pieces of history that were never written down.

A site manager gave a nod toward a black car parked far away. Inside the car, someone passed over a document with gloved hands, then left without a word.

Near that house, Nathan stared at his phone screen.
“That is Rae’s house. We need to tell her!” he said to Vina.
“Nathan... I can’t watch this. Have you been able to reach her?”

“Still no connection,” he muttered. He looked at Vina, who sat beside him.
“Do you think she turned off her phone on purpose?” Vina asked.

“No. I think... this isn’t about signal.”

They looked at each other. Their faces were tense. On the phone screen, Rae’s name kept flashing, a sign the call had failed.



Back in her room, Rae lit a small candle. The soft glow filled the space, casting shadows on the wall.
She sat on the floor, facing a photo frame of her mother. The image was faded, almost unrecognizable. But to Rae, every curve of that face was still clear.

“Mom,” she whispered, “if only you were still alive…”

She stared into the flame, her eyes glossy with tears.
“…I feel like I’ve lost my direction now.”

Her voice was almost too soft to hear. But the words echoed gently, floating in the quiet room, watched, but unknown to her.

In the corner of the ceiling, a tiny camera recorded everything... Its small red light blinked slowly. Somewhere else, on another screen, her image appeared, silent and still.

Rae didn’t know that by the time she fell asleep, the world she once knew would be gone forever.
Her childhood home was now only dust.

And there was no one left who could tell her....