Chapter 117 A Foreign State

Chapter 117 A Foreign State
Julian watched through a haze that didn’t feel entirely like sleep and not entirely like waking either, as the door opened and a figure was led inside. His vision dragged, struggling to focus, but the outline of her form stirred something buried deep within him.
“Samantha…?” His voice came out barely above a whisper, hoarse and fragile.
The name felt right on his tongue, yet distant, like something borrowed from a dream.
His eyes strained to see her clearly. She looked… untouched. No visible wounds, no chains like he had expected he would see on her if he ever met her again at all. But when he narrowed his gaze, he noticed her eyes. They told a different story. They carried a quiet panic.
Julian’s fingers twitched weakly against the bed.
Samantha stood there beside a man in all-white or lab coat. Julian couldn’t tell.
Just then, she spoke, her voice trembling as it cut through the stillness.
“He didn’t know I am donating for him… did he?” she asked, looking between the doctors. “Will I be released after the donation? I need to go back to my son.”
Each word struck Julian, but it didn’t land fully. It echoed, hollow, like his mind couldn’t grasp the weight of it.
Donating… for him?
He must be hallucinating. This… was never real.
His brows tried to knit together, confusion forming in his head, but before it could take shape, the darkness dragged him under again.
—
The next time Julian opened his eyes, he felt wrong all over.
Not just physically, but fundamentally.
His chest felt heavy, tight, and unfamiliar. He looked down slowly, movements sluggish, and saw the white bandages wrapped firmly across his torso. His fingers hovered over them, uncertain, as though they belonged to someone else.
His breathing came shallow. His thoughts came… slower.
No…
Empty.
He blinked, trying to gather something—anything—but there was nothing to gather.
No name. No face. No memory.
Just a hollow stretch of existence that felt… wrong.
A frown formed on his face as panic began to creep in, subtle at first, then tightening its grip. 
The door opened, taking all of his attention towards it.
A woman stepped in, dressed in a white coat, her straight blonde hair falling neatly around her shoulders. She smiled the moment their eyes met.
“You’re awake,” she said, her tone almost… pleased.
Julian stared at her.
She was a stranger.
Everything around him seemed strange too.
The realization hit him suddenly, almost suffocating him.
He didn’t know her.
He didn’t know this place.
He didn’t know— Himself.
His throat moved as he tried to speak. It felt foreign, like using a muscle he had never used before. The woman leaned closer, her gaze encouraging.
“Go on,” she coaxed softly. “Don’t be afraid of your own voice.”
Julian’s lips parted. The sound that came out was rough, broken.
“Who… am I?”
The question stayed heavy between them.
For a split second, the woman’s expression shifted. It looked like satisfaction.
Then her subtle smile widened.
“Oh…” she breathed out softly, almost delighted. “You’ll know soon enough.”
Julian’s brows pulled together faintly. That answer did nothing to steady the unease rising inside him.
She straightened. “I’ll be right back.”
A flicker of panic surged through him at the thought of being left alone in this unfamiliar emptiness. His hand shot out weakly, gripping her arm.
“Don’t…” His voice cracked. “Don’t leave me here.”
The woman looked down at his hand on her arm, then back at his face, amusement dancing faintly in her eyes.
“Oh, handsome,” she murmured, brushing her fingers lightly over his hand. “You’ll never have to be alone.”
Before he could respond, another voice joined them.
“Leave Jay, Katrina. He’s trying to adjust to this new him.”
Boots echoed against the flawless floor as the man with the authoritative voice entered.
Julian’s gaze snapped toward him.
The man carried presence. Not just confidence—but power. It radiated off him effortlessly, filling the room before he even spoke again. His hair was streaked with gray, his posture straight, gray eyes sharp as they fixed on him.
Julian’s chest tightened instinctively.
Something about him felt… important.
But no memory followed.
Katrina gave a small, sultry smile, casting Julian one last look before stepping away.
“Call me if he needs anything,” she said lightly, then walked out, the door closing behind her.
The room was drowned in silence for a moment. 
Then the man took a seat across from Julian, studying him with interest.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Julian held his gaze, unease prickling beneath his skin.
“I won’t answer questions to people I don’t know.” Julian said hoarsely.
The man paused then smiled. A pleased, almost impressed smile.
“Incredible,” he muttered. “Even stripped down to nothing… you’re still sharp. That’s why you’re my favorite.”
Julian’s frown deepened. “What does that mean?”
The man leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other.
“Your name,” he began calmly, “is Jay.”
Julian stilled.
The name didn’t spark anything.
It sat there, empty in his head.
“You were one of my most trusted men,” the man continued. “My second eye. Loyal, efficient, and ruthless when needed.”
Julian listened, trying to feel something close to recognition or familiarity—but there was nothing. Just the steady weight of confusion.
“What happened to me? Why don’t I remember any of these?” he asked, breathing heavily.
The man’s expression darkened just enough to sell the story he was about to tell.
“Tragedy,” he said simply. “You had a wife.”
Julian’s fingers curled slightly.
“A beautiful woman,” the man continued, his voice smooth. “But she cheated on you, betrayed you… and when that wasn’t enough, she started poisoning you slowly.”
Julian’s breathing hitched faintly.
“She wanted you gone,” the man added. “And when things escalated, she pinned a murder on you. Claimed you killed her father.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed, dread coiling low in his guts.
“You were arrested, and sentenced to ten years imprisonment.” The man continued.
Julian swallowed.
“And now…” the man gave a small, knowing smile. “She’s moved on with another man. Living her life while you were meant to rot.”
Julian’s heart raced.
None of it felt real. But he had nothing to counter it with.
No memory to compare to.
No truth to hold on to.
“So how do you know all this?” Julian asked, his voice quieter now.
The man chuckled.
“Because I saved you.”
Julian’s gaze sharpened faintly.
“I pulled strings, paid for your treatment. Made sure you didn’t die from what she did to you.”
Julian’s hand moved unconsciously to his chest, brushing over the bandages.
Saved…
“You belong with me,” the man said. “You always have.”
Julian looked at him, suspicion heavy in his eyes.
“Tell me more…
The man’s smile returned, colder this time.
“You protect me,” he said. “You eliminate threats. You see what others can’t. That’s why I call you my second eye.”
Julian exhaled slowly, giving up on trying to rake through his own memory.
“You’ll return to that soon enough,” the man added.
Julian hesitated, then asked, “My wife… what was her name?”
The man smirked, waving it off dismissively.
“She’s irrelevant now. It’s better she believes you’re gone serving your years inside the prison cage. It keeps you safe.”
Julian’s chest tightened again, a strange, aching pull he couldn’t explain.
“My wife tried to kill me…” he repeated under his breath, as though saying it would make it feel real.
“It’s behind you,” the man said smoothly. “Focus on what’s ahead.”
Julian looked up at him.
“How long… was I out?”
“A week,” the man replied.
Julian nodded faintly, absorbing it.
He wished he could feel something from his past. But he felt nothing— only weakness and pain in his body. More like a recovering body.
“You can take your revenge later,” the man said, rising to his feet. “But firstly, you will need to get back to work. And a lot of work is waiting for you, Jay.”
Julian watched him with deep scrutiny.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
The man paused, then smiled. “Thought you would ask.”
He stepped closer to Julian, extending his hand.
“I am President Frederick,” he said. “And you work for me.”
Julian stared at the offered hand. He almost hesitated. But then- there was another thought. What if this man was truly an important person to him?
He didn’t dwell on his doubt.
He reached out and took the President’s hand.
He could worry about his pasts later.