The door is soundlessly pushed open. Bright lights flood my eyes, blinding me momentarily. I blink, blurring reality as I try to take in the sights before me. Pause. A familiar sight spreads out before me. Familiar? Yes, this is undoubtedly familiar. How though? Based on what I understand, I should have no reason to find this place familiar. Did I come to this hotel prior to my current visit? Then, does that mean that I wasn’t kidnapped? I willingly allowed myself to have my memories erased? That doesn’t seem right… A vague understanding that I should possess extremely personal feelings towards this room fills my mind. In what way though? Could this be my bedroom? My parents? A partner’s? Is the room before a replication of the one I’m familiar with? Is it the real thing? It’s frustrating, but I feel as though I’m lacking some crucial information. At present, I’m in no position to draw conclusions. I should try my best to not hastily finalize any theories before fully understanding my current situation.

I blink. The room before me is bright and luxurious. A contrast forms between the hallway and the room before me, as if they’re places torn from two different worlds. The walls are egg white, a soft color that has hints of happiness and neutrality, a calm blankness that covers every wall in the wide and spread out “apartment”. Covering select spots of the dense, deeply grained wood flooring are fur rugs, the white material exceedingly soft, though the animal it originated from lost to time, forgotten by any who lay their eyes upon it. Of course, it doesn’t make any logical sense for the fur to be made of real animal pelts, such a thing would be absurd.

Squatting atop the rug is a short, gray coffee table, the legs bent and twisted, the solid stone structure a work of fine detail and focus. Spread out across the table are stacks of electronic paper, the scrolling words a random mess of letters, the provided pictures hazy and indistinct. Not even a date can be seen, leaving me curious as to why I’d fail to remember such a general piece of information.

Closing the door behind me, I make doubly sure to lock it before kicking off my shoes and continuing on my tour, paying excruciating attention to every detail that might help me establish a scene. This will be my home from now on, if I’m to believe Cat’s words. I don’t know why, or how, I’m here, but it’s in my best interest to follow along. That does beg the question, however: What is my objective? I was never given a goal or a reason for being here, and I don’t have a hint as to what the end goal might be. Well, I’ll think about it later, I’ve yet to finish my tour, for all I know there could be a note somewhere explaining my reason for being here.

My eyes return to the coffee table. Other than the strange alien letters and blurry pictures, nothing of note really stands out to me. I look at the three loveseats that surround the table, the pristine-white dressed in blood-red blankets, their edges covered by cloud-like pillows. Despite the flashy appearance the furniture looks rather unused. Is that because I really never used it when I still had my memories, or is it because whoever recreated this room didn’t take the time to make note of any small details like the wear-and-tear of furniture?

Embedded into the wall opposite the front door is a massive screen, it’s presence replacing what would typically be a standard window. On said screen is an endless sea of clouds, the rolling waves distant and vibrant, flashing with color, the boiling undertones undulating like a starving ocean, powerful and withdrawn. I may lack my memories, but from what I understand with my common sense, seeing clouds of color and cleanness is an impossible task. This truly is a fantastical landscape. Ignoring the actual contents of the screen, the lack of window is rather striking. Nowhere in this room is there a window. Now that I think about it, there were no windows in the lobby either. Is this intentional? For what reason would one wish to block out the outside world? A hotel of this standing should be located in a decent part of the city, and therefore doesn’t need to worry about things like pollution or murder, so the lack of windows is very concerning. I shelf my predictions and continue looking around.

To my left is a kitchen, separated by granite counters that glimmer like the night sky. Their surfaces are spotless, not a fingerprint to be seen nor a speck of dust or dirt, it’s cleanliness to an abnormal degree. Further inside I see the imposing refrigerator, which when checked inside is completely empty, leading me to form questions upon questions, again and again. The oven and other special utilities have been built into the counters and cabinets that surround the kitchen, resulting in an impressive yet completely empty and useless area in the overall floor plan.

I turn around and cross the room, moving to the right of the front door. Closest to the door is a cordoned off bathroom. Left of the bathroom is the bedroom, which is openly connected to the rest of the space, neither wall nor door to invite privacy. Peeking inside the bathroom as I pass by, I note that the toilet, shower and sink are all top of the line utilities that gleam in the bright and static lights. The absurd level of technology that has gone into such appliances slightly amuse me as I continue on my way.

It’s obvious, perhaps natural, that the “bedroom” portion of the room holds the most personality. In the leftmost corner of the room is a massive structure. Implanted into the face of said gargantuan construction is a massive terminal, scrolling through a seemingly infinite catalog of outfits and costumes. To the right of the “wardrobe” is a bed large enough to fit at least eight people. It’s circular in shape, like a full moon, and wine colored curtains drape around it from a ring planted into the ceiling.

A tight red comforter is stretched across the mattress, not a wrinkle to be seen, the edge of the circular blanket tucked evenly underneath the mattress, only the topmost portion is folded, where a mountain of black pillows are propped up against the wall. A thorough pursuit of comfort would have led one to such a bed. I can easily imagine myself curled up atop the moon-like expanse, lost in a drunken dreamland, whimsically pursuing my wanton desires with abandon.

I glance to the rightmost corner of the room, where a small white nightstand sits. As expected, the drawers are empty, but placed atop it is a long, flat clock, a thin silver plaque that has the sole purpose of displaying the time. Right next to it is a thin tablet, glowing with white coldness. It’s screen displays a mess of words, the jumbled letters only echoing endlessly within my brain, confusing me more and more the longer I try to read. Through my efforts I come to realize that this tablet is presenting a romance novel of some kind, though any further details elude me, and I’m forced to look away out of fear of suffering a headache.

Finished with my tour, I let out a long sigh mixed with an exhausted chuckle. In spite of my assumed vigilance, my body visibly relaxes, shoulders curving forward as my mind slowly loosens. Through my search I’ve confirmed that there’s no way to intrude upon this place other than via the front door, and because of this, I can let down my guard the slightest bit, happy that I have what can at least be considered a temporary safe place. A sanctuary of some sort to separate myself from the many strangers I’m sure to face in the future. At least with this room I have a little world to call my own.

Naturally I can’t completely let my guard down, as I’ve already been warned once by Cat, what with certain times and areas being dangerous without permission or preparation. This is already cause for concern, as logically and realistically, no hotel should have any danger whatsoever, or at least hotels of this standing. But even so, at least in this little room here, I can let my hair down a bit.

Lost in thought, I wander aimlessly, my small feet thumping against the floorboards in an even, methodical rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth, I pace about the room, thoughts bouncing from one topic to the next without any clear through-line. My mind is muddled. Now that the tension from before has vanished, all that remains is a vast void, pure emptiness that leaves me indifferent and restless. I find myself staring into the bathroom mirror. The cold tiles that line the floor chill my feet even through my socks. A young woman stands before me. Gazing with dull eyes, the face in the mirror belongs to that of a complete stranger, only the faintest wisps of familiarity coil around my black heart, like a dissipating scent.

Despite logically understanding that the person in the mirror is none other than myself, I can’t help but admire her with the gaze of an outsider, a sense of blind fascination overwhelming me as I suck in her appearance, eyes twitching through the fervent strain. Her image is molded into my mind in intense detail, and soon, I lose myself in the inspection. In every sense of the word she is beautiful. Doll-like in appearance. Inhuman. A sense of majesty graces her features, like a Goddess cast unto Earth. A hazy sorrow overtakes me, I know not which plane of existence she hails from, but I’m sure the world wept when they lost her.

Long, straight black hair flecked with hints of purple, reminiscent of the depths of the universe, an endless black that consumes all light. Her strands creep down her spine and cascades over her shoulders, like a midnight waterfall plummeting to the bottom of a shadow-filled chasm. Interweaving and restraining her glistening locks, red ribbons, as bright as a flame of passion, twist into looping bows and knots, forming indiscreet yet beautiful figures, a splash of color in the lightless night. Her burning silver eyes are as profound as the galaxy, staring vaguely into the distance with a divine indifference, their cold inhumanness shines through even while they are presently clouded in confusion and fear. Faintly, as softly as a brush of wind running along a blade of grass, the words “Silver is the color of the divine” whisper through the air, an incorporeal voice that speaks ever so faintly, illusory and peculiar. The young woman’s skin is absolutely flawless, entirely without blemish, neither scar nor freckle distorting the milk-white, almost porcelain flesh. A small, shapely nose fits perfectly on her heart shaped face, as though selected meticulously with the full intent of complementing her overall appearance.

She’s an otherworldly beauty. It would be no stretch of the imagination to believe that with a simple smile she’d capture the hearts of both men and women in a vice. It’s no wonder Cat and Arridy were so bashful, the woman’s appearance is almost painful to look at. If anything their reactions were restrained and abnormal, as though they didn’t truly take in the entirety of her being. An aura of temptation surrounds her, accentuated by the light make-up that sharpens the curves of her face in an almost indiscernible way. A thin line that frames the eyes makes her gaze more striking, her naturally red lips are coated with a hue only a touch brighter, capturing one’s attention like a flame in the night. Her every breath carries the faint hint of mint, and when one catches a glimpse of her playful tongue through the flicker of a smile, a shiver runs down their spine and their heart skips a few beats, leaving them gasping in pain.

My soul has been stolen.

Any sense of rational thought evaporates without a trace as I lose myself in a familiar ecstasy. No longer do I understand what it is I’m doing, I merely watch, blind and enraptured, as my trembling fingers caress the mirror, vainly attempting to cup the glass cheek in the reflection. My voice involuntarily leaks from my lips, hot and passionate, thick with the stench of obsession.

“How… beautiful…”

My nearly inaudible whisper resonates deeply within my soul, a delirious edge gradually filling my face. My cheeks redden, the tips of my ears burning as if set directly ablaze. My eyes soften, growing moist and wide, like a small dog begging for a treat. My jaw drops slightly as heated breaths flow from between my lips, heavy and heaving with an audible sigh. The figure in the mirror changes. Purity. Innocence. Lust. A rich and stifling warmth floods my body, tensing my nerves and setting my senses afire. I unconsciously move closer to the mirror, bending over the sink in an unsightly pose just to get a few inches closer. My eyes flick across her body in a passionate blaze, I’m searching for something. Something vague. Something forgotten. I stare into the other person’s eyes, thrilled by the radiant desire that I see directed towards me, shivering despite having my ego and insides burn with unfathomable heat.

A husky groan escapes my gaping mouth. The clothes begin to shed off me, falling to the frigid floor piece by piece. The girl in the mirror runs her desperate gaze across my body, leaving my skin covered in goosebumps, pleasure tracing clear lines as her eyes flit towards my bare parts. Every curve, every crevice, every iota of my being is directly observed and worshiped…

It’s everything I could have ever wanted.

Her glassy eyes leave me covered in sweat. I pant and moan, trembling from the intense heat, my skin secretes sweetly smelling beads of moisture that decorate every inch of my naked flesh. It’s hot… Hot! Too hot!

Furiously, I tear my eyes away from the hazy figure in the mirror, gasping as I suck in gulp upon gulp of fresh, cool air. Instantly, the fog clouding my mind disperses, leaving me fully aware of the insanity of my actions. Looking down, I see my completely naked body covered in fluids. My skin is burning red, and my hair clings to my neck and shoulders. My outfit now lays scattered about the bathroom, unceremoniously discarded. At some point, even the ribbons, which were meticulously weaved into my hair, have been freed and now lay on the edge of the bathroom sink.

“I… I need to cool off…”

Perhaps it’s a forgotten habit, one built up over the lost years, but I mutter to myself in hushed whispers, focusing on the process of speaking as a means of calming down and slowing down my thinking. Steadily, I limit my mind’s activities to its base impulses. In accordance to my simplistic instincts, my bare feet slap against the tiles, shutting the bathroom door and approaching the shower. I enter the massive capsule, allowing a sense of mastery to take over my hand as I smoothly operate the impressive number of buttons and knobs. My experienced fingers glide across the controls, picking the most comfortable options, down to the scent of soap that will be lathered across my flesh. In no time foamy water is being sprayed, the multidirectional nozzles making sure to attack every single part of my body in a cleaning crusade. The temperature is just below lukewarm. My skin begins to cool.

“What… was that? Why did I… act like that?”

My thoughts come in slowly, dripping into my conscious mind in an unsteady frequency. I just don’t understand. Why would I have such a reaction to seeing my own reflection? I don’t think I’m a narcissist. At least not to the point of wanting to have sex with myself… Why do I possess such impulses? Is this controllable? Will I act in such a way every time I see my reflection? A bitter sense of distaste lingers in the back of my throat as I fail to reach any kind of conclusion.

“... Why is this happening to me…?”

My voice involuntarily quivers as I whimper the question that has been haunting me since my awakening. I just can’t understand. What is actually going on? Where am I? Who am I, and why do I not have memories of my past? How is it possible that I forgot my very identity? Is there a way to recover my memories? As my thoughts begin to spiral, I pause any further thinking, simply allowing the chilled water to flow across my skin, letting it seep into my very bones.

I stand in still silence for a rather long time. My arms are covered in goosebumps and I shiver occasionally, but I find the uncomfortable coldness of the water comforting nonetheless. Eventually, I finally step out of the shower, taking in the entirety of the world with completely fresh eyes.

“Perhaps I should do this more often.”

I managed to rein in my emotions, averting the crisis. Still, the very fact that my unconscious mind was so stifled is reason for concern. It’ll be beneficial for me if I take time out of my day occasionally to separate myself from reality, to allow myself to sort my emotions out. As a sign of my improved mental condition, plans for the future are being made. They’re short term, yes, but the very act of having a plan can be the difference between life and death, between stability and uncertainty. Blinking with a clear gaze, my eyes are drawn to my pants pockets. I see the map of the hotel tucked into one of the back pockets.

“Huh, I guess I forgot about that.”

With a sigh, I reach over and retrieve the bundle of paper, damp feet slapping against the floor as I leave the bathroom in a leisurely stride. I approach the terminal that I found in the corner of the bedroom. The controls aren’t too difficult to understand, and I already possess some form of understanding on how to use the machine, so I easily manage to find a comfortable looking outfit to sleep in. After pushing the button labeled “Confirm” there’s a dull buzz before the front of the wardrobe opens with a woosh, leaving my selected outfit suspended midair.

I grab the light-blue nightgown, astounded by the softness. With a few swift motions I slip into the fabric, the material feels amazing against my skin, hanging loosely off my body, brushing ever so carefully against my tender flesh like a lover’s caress. The clothing gently drapes over my firm bottom and waist, barely concealing the necessary parts in it’s transparentness. The white lace that drips off the edges creates an alluring impression, leading me to believe that in the right lighting, I’d be Desire incarnate, an ethereal being only found in dreams and memories.

I plop down onto the bed. I feel the mattress pushing back against me, leaving me basking in the quality of the bed, dumbfounded as to how much something like this must cost. With delicate fingers I open up the map, unfolding it again and again until I finally see the full picture. Soon, the entire paper lays flat on the bed, depicting a massive tower, with a general description given to the aforementioned “activity rooms” as Cat had called them. As presumed, there are an astounding 140 floors, leaving me only guessing as to how many people are actually in this hotel, and why.

Scanning the paper, I see floors labeled with generalized names like “aquarium”, “arcade”, and “bar”, despite there being multiple of such floors at different points in the hotel. Is there no difference in the actual floors, or is this map lacking in overall detail? There are 35 activity rooms in total, with quite a few repeats using generic names like “bar” and “restaurant”, so it’s best that I use my own methods to gather more detailed information. These places are considered “safe exceptions” if I wish to move to higher floors, so I should be able to mingle with the people in such areas. Humans are social creatures after all, there will naturally be someone somewhere willing to provide me with the information I need.

I soon form the outline of a plan, taking into consideration my lack of knowledge. Tomorrow, I will go down to the lobby and question Cat as to what it is I’m here for. I shouldn't ask him directly, but with a bit of wordplay I’m confident in reaching a preliminary conclusion that should at least be able to settle my nerves. Once I finish with that, I will focus on greeting my neighbors, as is required from the list of rules I was told. I don’t know the significance of such actions, but since I will be doing so after chatting with Cat, by then I will be able to know the risks associated with following such a rule.

No matter how innocent the rule is, there’s something incredibly suspicious going on if greeting my neighbors is a requirement, not a formality. Once I finish with that, I should be able to act on my own. In that case, I will visit one of the bars on the lower floors to gather more information.

With a vague outline now formed in my mind, I feel myself relax. Now calm enough to get some sleep, my eyes drift over to the clock. The time reads 3:27 AM, too late to go out and do anything, not to mention I’m too exhausted to actually explore this mysterious hotel. With heavy steps, I stand and walk around the room, switching the overhead white-lights into a luminescent blue, the same as the hallway just outside the door of my room. In an instant I’ve traveled to the depths of the ocean, my new sleepwear blending into my surroundings, basking in the dim colors. By the time I crawl into bed, all the doors are locked, leaving me with nothing more to take care of. The bathroom, which had an entire rule written about it, was checked twice and securely locked from the outside, something I noted as an abnormal design feature.

“Oh wow… This is… really nice…”

I tunnel underneath the blankets and sheets, strictly sleeping on one side, as if unconsciously giving space to an invisible partner. My eyelids grow heavy and I quickly find my thoughts unraveling. It seems I’m more tired than I initially assumed. In no time, my mind slips into a familiar murkiness, suspended.