The Guide, looking grimly at her charge, quietly left the building and headed toward the Guide accompanying Constantin’s friend. She needed him to drop by and find Constantin on the studio floor, displaying those all-too-familiar symptoms.
* * *
Constantin awoke in a hospital room, shining with cleanliness. His mind felt empty. Just then, the door opened, and a young nurse entered with a tray of syringes.
“Don’t worry, you’re in the best clinic in the city, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” the girl smiled warmly.
“What happened to me?” Constantin asked, bewildered. “I don’t remember anything—”
“No wonder,” the Guide muttered from behind the headboard.
“It’s nothing serious. Just ordinary exhaustion,” the girl said. “You need rest and peace.”
She gave him an injection and, as she left, placed a shiny bead on the bedside table, casting a sly glance over the back of his bed.
“You were holding this when the ambulance brought you in.”
Constantin recognized the pearl, painted earlier on his canvas, and grimaced. He didn’t have the strength to think clearly. All he wanted was to sleep.
The Guide rolled her eyes, clearly displeased, and waved dismissively at the Ephor nurse as she closed the door behind her.
The medication wasn’t helping much. For a week, he received various IV drips and was assured that he was experiencing some form of autopsychic depersonalization. The doctor had ruled out selective amnesia, confirming that there was no dark-haired girl in his memory.
His friends supported him as best they could. Some recited their go-to phrases, while others genuinely tried to understand. A few simply called and stayed silent, and in that silence lay a profound meaning. But the truth was that no words would help. It was obvious to both Constantin and those speaking. Yet all the formalities were observed. A checkbox was ticked.
Days passed, but the burden didn’t go away. It was heavy, and Constantin’s weight was rapidly dropping – not because of a newfound fitness routine or diet, but because he carried that burden with him every day.
He rose each morning with it, dragged it to the dining hall, then rolled it with him to his treatments. He could feel every muscle in his body working, straining to carry the invisible load.