In the grounds where the beauty pageant was held, a melancholy-looking man stood blankly before a painting.
A flower-like smile, shining eyes—they seized his heart at once.
Who was she? She must have been a very, very important girl.
Why could he not remember her name?
No, he had even forgotten his own name.
He only vaguely remembered fragments of the past.
An American football, a wasteland, black-and-white chess pieces...
He had also met an interesting kid.
He did not know when he had lost his memories. It seemed to have happened after returning to some place and being washed over by a black aura.
After that, he had lived in a muddled daze.
Someone had tried to rob him, only to be casually beaten to death by him.
Even bullets posed no threat to him.
Until today, when he came here and was pinned down by several tentacles, forced to paint the image in his heart.
"Who is she? And what is my name?"
He muttered to himself.
A Blackhide beside him burst out laughing. "Kid, that woman's pretty. She's different from the women in our heads. Why not give us that painting? We can trade..."
The next moment, the Blackhide's head exploded.
The man coldly withdrew his fist, picked up the painting, and swallowed it.
In this wasteland, nowhere was safer than your stomach—until you died.
The people around him watched this unfold with utterly calm expressions, as if someone had merely stepped on an ant.
This wasteland was filled with the stench of death and chaos.
It was all too easy for someone to die.
It was even easier to kill someone.
The man turned and left.
He did not know that many eyes had begun following him from behind.
The man had forgotten his own