I couldn't remember exactly when I started having nightmares. In all honesty, it was no exaggeration even if I was labelled as someone with psychiatric issues when I was still a child. I couldn't even attend kindergarten. What else would've happened if a very young child who wasn't even fully grown said that he dreamt about decades worth of memories? What more so if the content of that dream was a series of unbearable hellish memories?

- Father! Look at this! It can move! It's so amazing!

- This is… It's a body. How could such a grace be bestowed to us?

- So noisy. Be quiet everyone. Ahhh, oh my God… What have I done? No, more than that, to think that even I had become a fallen... Is it Father's will? Did I really make such a grave mistake to deserve this?

That's right. If I looked back at my memory, that was the very beginning of the memory. I was in bewilderment as I glanced at my own body. But that was obviously not me. I shared the same feelings and senses with him, but he was actually the one moving his body. I referred to those nightmares as memories because all I did was live through his life experiences without being able...