The email should originally have looked like this.
But now, Gin carefully examined the contents in the middle. He discovered that although many of the keywords in the sent email overlapped with what he had meant to say, what he had actually sent was—
[Just now, Vermouth, Uzo, Vodka, and I went to get a pair of high-tech glasses. The Doctor said they could help improve my current difficulty with recognizing people.
Medical progress is advancing faster and faster. After consulting professionals, I learned that there was indeed nothing seriously wrong with those glasses. Also, for some reason, I keep feeling that this treatment plan bears Sherry's influence and overlaps somewhat with her field of research.
I hope you can investigate the origins of this glasses-based treatment plan. I think Sherry may have infiltrated their development team and guided this research—I will gather the others immediately and await your orders at any time.]
Though that jumbled email was not quite incoherent, it did not look like something a clear-headed Gin could have written.
—It looked more like something he had carelessly sent while sleepwalking from exhaustion, a symbol of some deep-rooted obsession.
"..." As Gin read those words, he was momentarily dazed. If what had just happened had not been so real, he would almost have suspected that he had been sleepwalking.
Refusing to believe it, he deleted that nonsense and rewrote the email he had actually wanted to send.
This time, Gin typed much more slowly. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen like a predator watching prey as he wrote and reviewed every word.
Then, with a slight cold sweat, he realized that whenever he reached a crucial piece of information, he would inexplicably forget what he had originally intended to write, as though he had forgotten a