Chapter 8 The entire exhibition hall fell deathly silent. Everyone's eyes focused on that small scar on my wrist. Damien's face drained of color inch by inch. He stood frozen like he'd been struck by lightning, lips trembling but unable to make a sound. Those eyes that had dismissed me countless times now filled with shock, disbelief, and overwhelming regret. "No... impossible..." He muttered to himself, trying to convince himself. Aria looked even worse than him. She rushed forward and snatched the diary book. "Fake! This has to be fake!" She screamed hysterically, You're all frauds Luna hired!" The old man frowned. Then he pulled out a photo from his bag. Though blurred with age, the outlines were still visible. In the photo, young Damien lay unconscious in a middle-aged man's arms. Beside them, a thin girl was tugging at the man's sleeve, desperately pointing toward the mountains. The girl wore a tattered red dress, her face covered in mud, and on her wrist-a crescent-shaped scar clearly visible. This photo was taken by my wife that year." The old man sighed, Unfortunately, the Ashford family came and took the young girl away so quickly, we never got to ask this little hero's name..." The truth struck like an axe, splitting apart the world Damien had built from lies and delusions for fifteen years. He staggered back a step, his gaze moving from the photo to the dairy book, finally settling on my face. The face he'd seen for five years but never remembered. It's you..." His voice shook uncontrollably. It was always you." looked at him coldly, watching his pathetic breakdown. Now you recognize me?" Damien's eyes immediately reddened. He reached out to touch me, then jerked back like he'd been burned. 'Luna, I..." SLAP! A crisp slap echoed through the hall. It was the museum director. She walked forward and used all her strength to slap Aria. Shameless thief!" The director trembled with rage. "You stole her life and still want to destroy her present!" Aria was knocked to the ground, her hair disheveled and pathetic. She covered her face, finally unable to keep up the act, crying out to Damien: "Damien! Believe me! I was the one with you! We made a promise!" But Damien acted like he couldn't hear her. He only stared at me intently. He remembered everything. Remembered the girl who pushed the last wild berry into his mouth in that deep forest. Remembered the girl who cried "Don't die, I'll find help" when he was beaten nearly to death. Remembered the girl in the red dress who pulled him from darkness like a ray of light. All the memories he'd forgotten, all the ones he'd attributed to the wrong person, exploded like a flood, completely drowning him. He finally understood that his face recognition disorder wasn't a disease at all. His heart-had been blind. He'd pushed away his salvation with his own hands, again and again. And pushed her into an abyss. Ahhhh-!" Damien let out an anguished roar, spinning around and punching the display case beside him. Glass shattered, blood flowing between his fingers. But he felt no pain. Because no pain could compare to one ten-thousandth of what he felt in his heart right now.