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The Final Amnesia

Summary:

 

In a dungeon in America, Thomas Andre finds Sung Jinwoo, an amnesiac. The two hunters expect to eventually recover Jinwoo’s lost memories enough to return him home, but not to discover a love as powerful as they are.

 

Notes:

For anyone who doesn't know, John Doe is a term for an unidentified male person, a temporary name until people identify him.
I've been wanting to write an amnesia fic, but had to wait until I plotted the whole thing out, and it took forever.
This is going to be wild. I hope someone enjoys! Thank you for reading! ;) <3

Chapter 1: Lost and Found

Chapter Text

 

* * * * *

 ❝ I can only wait for the final amnesia, the one that can erase an entire life.

- Luis Buñuel.

* * * * *

 

Thomas Andre is the first to find the unfamiliar man half-dead and unconscious.

 

Lying curled up on a stone floor, miles deep in what they’d thought was only an A-rank dungeon. 

 

His clothing is in tattered shreds; he’s clutching his ribs, blood pooling around his raven head, yet to dry.  

 

From his physique, he’s clearly male.

 

He also has a death grip on two intricate daggers in each hand, covered in different colors of ichor, flesh, and bone fragments.

 

His face is battered so severely that Thomas can barely tell the stranger still has one. 

 

When he initially saw him, Thomas thought it was a wonder that a monster didn’t eat him, but not for long — when his subordinates ventured deeper.

 

Only to find an S-Rank High Orc Boss and at least a few hundred other magic beast corpses littering the desert area in thousands of pieces.

 

The situation is clear to Thomas, but his Guild Members can’t believe it yet.

 

“Ashes and death,” Jerry, his bodyguard, whispers, staring at the wreckage because none of the other S-Ranks standing around Thomas could’ve survived this alone, but him. 

 

“You’re suggesting one hunter managed to kill all those monsters by himself?”

 

“Look at how those poor bastards were chopped to hell.” Thomas grins widely, crossing his muscular arms across his chest, “I don’t see anyone else out here holding daggers in such shitty condition, do you? Healers, stop gaping already and make sure he lives. Regardless of what happened here, he’s the only witness.”

 

His top healer rushes to the man immediately, kneels, assesses the injuries that need immediate care and gets to work. 

 

For a long time, their party was defined by murmuring and skeptical analysis of the situation, and others were sent off to collect beast corpses and mana crystals.

 

Thomas turns his attention to the unidentified man, reaching out with all his enhanced senses. He finds a weak heartbeat and a wealth of exciting power swimming beneath his flesh. 

 

He honestly doesn’t know what to think. This situation is new for him, too. He thought he’d stopped being surprised by anything and had seen it all, but this person proved him wrong.

 

“We’re here because our detection system warned us there would be a dungeon break. It hasn’t been long since we were notified, mobilized, and entered.” Mumbles a rookie B-Rank mage-type, Noah.

 

“Time is different here,” Eric, his second bodyguard, says. "He could’ve been stuck here for hours or days, and judging by the damage to him and the monsters, I’m guessing at least a week.”

 

“I’ve never heard of a human being discovered in a dungeon like this.” Rookie Noah murmurs, visibly disturbed.

 

“Usually, you only find corpses of people,” Thomas mercilessly tells him, “Or those still fighting. But we were supposedly the first to enter this dungeon. We’re going to need to investigate and search to see if there are any other survivors or dead, but I don’t sense another soul right now.”

 

“I see,” Noah sighs, looking like he wants to throw up from the stench.

 

“Cheer up and be glad it wasn’t you fighting those.” Thomas claps him on the back, and his rookie stumbles even though Thomas feels like he barely tapped him.

 

“Y-Yes, Guild Master.”

 

Thomas sighs, wondering if he was right to sign that guy onto the guild when he has less experience than most hunters here. He’ll learn, and they’ll train him until sights like this and the smell don’t phase him anymore.

 

Thomas finds it repulsive, too, but he’s seen worse, smelled worse, and what Kamish did was a thousand times worse, but he’s more interested in the unidentified male who seems to have managed to kill them and somehow survived. 

 

His interest is piqued further when his healer reports back to him as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and stands by her side, a couple feet away from the John Doe. 

 

His breathing is ragged, agonized, and he shivers now and then.

 

What the hell happened in this dungeon? The only way to find out was to question this guy.

 

“I’ve stopped the blood, healed his fractured ribs, and I’m halfway through on his broken left leg, but the head injury can’t be fixed here. He’ll need a stretcher,” Marcella, the Scavenger Guild’s S-Rank Healer, says, holding a magic tome and using it to fix whatever she can, “There’s too much damage to carry him out of here — he’s barely hanging on as it is.”

 

“Hey! Get a stretcher and anything else Marcella needs! I’m leaving.”

 

“Yes, Guild Master!”

 

But before he heads out of the dungeon, he hears a cough and whirls around.

 

“He’s still conscious?” Thomas asks disbelievingly. His brows shoot up when John Doe manages to push his healer away from him. 

 

The man’s breath hitches, and he falls back immediately after with a pained groan, but she catches him by the nape of his neck and shoulder before he can hit his bleeding head.

 

“Sir, you are heavily injured and need to stay still.” Marcella commands in a way only a former nurse used to dealing with uncooperative patients can, “I am here to help, and you’re going to be alright. What is your name?”

 

She’s likely asking so they can identify him and contact any next of kin who can meet them at the hospital. 

 

With the Scavenger Guild’s information-gathering resources, a name is all they’ll need to learn everything they need to know about him. 

 

The Federal Bureau of Hunters will investigate everything. Once the other American Guilds hear what happened, they’ll rush to recruit him once they are given permission to interact. 

 

Thomas is already considering something like it, but it’s too soon to rush into anything before he knows who he is or where he came from. 

 

There are many issues to consider, and he’s unsure if this poor bastard will make it out of the dungeon to an ambulance.

 

But he can’t deny he’s beyond curious.

 

The man's dark eyes blink slowly as if he’s never heard the question before.

 

It’s impossible to tell what expression he is making under all that blood flowing from his eyebrow and the bruises and welts mottling his swollen facial features.

 

Right before he passes out like a light, Thomas hears him whisper,

 

“You…tell…me.”

 

For multiple reasons, he doesn’t bother to examine closely, Thomas takes one more glance at the defeated monsters and follows the healers and the injured man to the hospital.

 

* * * * *

 

Unaware of how much this chance encounter will change his life.