The interstices of the story

The sun sank into the distant mountains. The pale marble windowsill was brushed with the dusky yellow of its last light, revealing the winding veins in the stone beneath the glow.

The evening light pierced Doctor's eyelids, and he opened his eyes.

He found himself slumped over a desk. A mass of yellowed parchment scrolls, two strange, whitish bone carvings, and a purple scented candle lay beside his hand. Manuscripts were piled into a mountain at his feet.

My head hurts badly. Fragmented thought, impaired sentence construction. Possibly damage to the language center caused by intracranial bleeding.

Before he had fully regained consciousness, his brain had already instinctively assessed his injuries.

He sat up in silence, a flicker of bewilderment crossing his mind. Shattered memories churned through his head like the pieces of a broken jigsaw puzzle.

Dong—dong—dong—

The church's bronze bell rang outside the window. In an instant, its tolling scattered the bewilderment in Doctor's mind, and coherent stretches of memory surged up.

This was his home. He must have been studying secret arts through ancient texts. He was still young at this point and had not even begun learning secret arts. At best, he was an amateur indulging a passing interest.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar thrill rose from the depths of his heart. The corners of his mouth lifted involuntarily. After a while, he realized that what he was experiencing was happiness.

Emotion. I can actually feel emotion again. My mental damage has healed! Doctor instinctively assessed his condition. My thoughts are coherent. Could I have returned to normal?!

In disbelief, he touched his face.

I escaped the island. I escaped that cage! I haven't lost my memories. I've even regained my mental health. I did it!

Irrepressible ecstasy surged from his heart. It even gave him a sense