And the woman whom he had assumed was the most ordinary person in the Sterling family was now leisurely brewing tea. Her movements were smooth and practiced, every action exuding an air of elegance, not at all resembling someone whose house was currently surrounded by the police. A moment later, she pushed a teacup towards Julian.

"You are like me when I was young. Always thinking that you can control everything, including your own emotions."

Julian picked up the teacup but did not drink from it. He watched the thin wisps of steam rising and gave a faint, cynical smile: "If you called me in here just to have a heart-to-heart talk between mother and son, I think it is far too late for that."

Catherine paid no mind to his sarcasm. She asked, her voice still as flat and tranquil as the surface of a calm lake: "Who gave you the A-01 card?"

Julian paused, setting the teacup back down on the table: "You know of its existence?"

"I have known about it since before you even knew how to read." Catherine raised her eyes to look at him: "What do you think the name A-01 stands for? An object within a successful experiment? A perfect evolution of humanity that those lunatics are chasing after?"

Then, she broke into a smile, one that held absolutely no joy but was instead covered in sheer exhaustion. It seemed that she, too, was utterly sick and tired of living such a tormenting life.

"It... actually stands for Subject Survived, the sole surviving subject."

For some unknown reason, Julian felt a chilling cold run down his spine: "The sole survivor?"

"That number 01 does not mean the first one." Catherine lowered her voice: "It means that you are the only one left after the initial screening phase. The other children... have all been reduced to piles of ash."

Julian took a deep breath. He could feel his heart beating faster, a sharp pain piercing his chest. Julian knew that the lingering fragments of memory within this body were screaming.

Wondering just how profoundly ungrateful and heartless human nature could be.

"Why?"

Julian’s voice was already trembling slightly: "I am your biological son, aren’t I? Was carrying me for nine months not difficult? When our heartbeats were still in sync while I was in your womb, did you never feel a thing? Why? How could you be so cruel as to hand over your own child’s life to others, letting them take me away to be used for experiments?"

Catherine looked into his eyes. This woman maintained herself exceedingly well, her face did not have many wrinkles. She was clearly fifty years old, yet she still looked like someone merely in her forties. If she was not trying to be intimidating, she always exuded a very gentle aura.

"Then do you know why, during those years of wandering outside with that impoverished family, you managed to stay alive? Julian, you know very well that a family struggling to make ends meet, drowning in so much debt, would find it incredibly difficult to raise you into a healthy adult. And yet, you still grew up, you still received a full education."

"Did you honestly think that your own measly little efforts truly saved your life? Did you really think that an experimental subject deemed a success, the only surviving specimen, could just freely roam around outside, and even marry the one enemy who wants to eradicate CORE by the roots the most?"

Julian was not surprised when this woman mentioned CORE. What truly shocked him was how she knew everything so thoroughly. Even the fact about Ethan Caldwell’s deep-seated hatred for CORE...

Just how deeply had this organization taken root? Exactly how much information did they possess?

"Julian, for you to develop to this point, it was not easy for me either. You blame me for letting them take you away for experiments, but wasn’t it your own choice? Wasn’t it because you yourself realized just how useless and much of a failure you were, that you became so desperate you wanted to participate in the experiment? Without joining the experiment, would you be the Julian you are today? No, you would still be that timid, useless wretch from before."

"Julian, place your hand over your heart and ask yourself, is the you right now the same as the you from before? Who exactly is the real Julian?"

...

When Julian stepped out of the tearoom, the empty corridor held only a tall, solitary figure standing by in wait.

The moment Ethan Caldwell saw his silhouette, he immediately strode over. The man asked no questions. He merely looked into Julian’s slightly reddened eyes, then opened his arms and pulled the young man snugly into his embrace.

Julian did not push him away. He buried his face in Ethan Caldwell’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood to help soothe nerves that were currently pulled taut as a bowstring.

"Is everything sorted out?" Ethan Caldwell whispered in his ear, his large hand gently patting Julian’s back as if coaxing a child.

Julian nodded, his voice slightly hoarse: "It is done. But everything... has only just begun."

He let go of Ethan, turning back to look at the tearoom door that remained tightly shut. Catherine did not come out, she stayed inside, facing the ruins of the Sterling family that she had personally ignited.

In Julian’s hand at this moment was an old, brown fireproof envelope that Catherine had just handed to him before he left.

"This thing should have been burned a long time ago, but I figured there would come a day when you would need it to find yourself again."

Julian took a deep breath, his trembling fingers opening the envelope.

Inside was a color photograph that had yellowed slightly with the passage of time. In the photo was a cold laboratory with rows of machinery entangled in a chaotic web of wires. In the middle of the room was a small glass cage, and inside it was a child around three or four years old, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, his lifeless eyes staring straight into the camera lens.

On the outside of the glass cage was pasted a white paper label bearing the bold text: A-01.

Julian flipped to the back of the photo. There, written in faded black ink, was a line of handwritten text, the handwriting was slender but filled with absolute despair: "The child forbidden to be remembered."

Julian’s hand trembled violently, and the photo slipped from his grasp, tumbling onto the cold floor. Memories that did not belong to him, the silent screams echoing within that glass cage, seemed to be desperately trying to breach the barrier of time and come flooding back.

"Jules!" 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Ethan Caldwell’s call rang in his ears, but all Julian could see was a blinding expanse of white. He stared blankly at the line of text on the back of the photograph, his heart pounding wildly as if it were trying to burst out of his chest.

The child forbidden to be remembered... Ultimately, what exactly was the thing they so desperately wanted to wipe clean from his mind?

No, was it him, or was it that child?

In the end, who was who?