Summary: Set after Ray Route's Bad Relationship End 2, MC started dreaming of a silver-haired man in a magenta suit after waking up in an unknown apartment six months ago. With the arrest of the religious cult Mint Eye in the news, MC finds herself affected by it in the most unexpected way.

A/N: This fic is an entry for Saeran Week 2018 on tumblr for the prompt Memories (3rd Day). It mentions non-con drug use hence the Mature rating. I've also quoted a lot of line from the game's Visual Novels.

Disclaimer: Mystic Messenger and all its wonderful characters are properties of Cheritz. This is simply a work of a fan who is patiently waiting for Another Story After Ends (and Secret Ends!) where Saeran and Saeyoung will finally be reunited.

It's a clear night and you find yourself walking into a beautiful flower garden. The view is breathtaking; the flowers are bathed in moonlight while dew drops sparkle like crystals over green leaves. Hydrangeas, daffodils, violets, lilies and roses are everywhere. You can't get enough of the sweet scent of the place. It is obvious that someone loves the garden a lot. You wander in the garden and the orange roses catch your eyes. They feel nostalgic but you can't exactly remember why. It reminds you of someone and you feel their presence in the garden itself. You turn around and see a small fountain in the middle of the garden. Similar to the flowers, the moonlight gives it an ethereal glow to it as well.

Sitting by the fountain is a white-haired man wearing a magenta suit. Your heart skips a beat as you look at him. He's as beautiful as the garden around him but something was off. His shoulders are shaking like he's crying. You walk towards him.

"I'm so stupid. I keep thinking that I want her to embrace me even now." He swipes his tears with a gloved-hand. "I don't deserve to do that. I'm useless unless I work without sleeping."

You call out to him but you didn't hear yourself. Still, he turns around to see you.

"MC." He says, his voice almost a squeak.

You smile at him, trying to show that he doesn't have to be wary of you. You reach for his hands and tell him, "You're free to follow your mind and heart's desire."

He shakes his head. "No, nothing will work if I do as I think. Only bad things will happen, and you will leave me."

You frown at the ridiculous assumption. "I will not leave you." You assure him but he's stubborn. He's convinced that he doesn't deserve good things.

"I shouldn't do as I think. I need to endure all this pain and difficulty," he insists. "I can take it. I can take it all."

He continues to breakdown, saying that he's better off getting hurt as long as you don't leave him.

But you've heard enough. He deserves nothing of the sort that he's saying. He is the kindest man you've ever met. He deserves more than that.

"Please stop tormenting yourself." You tell him as soon as he paused talking. "Look at me."

He whines, still unconvinced of the things she said. "But MC…"

You pull his hands and he steps closer to you. You act fast as you tip toe to reach him and in a split-second, you are kissing. It got him to stop talking badly about himself. He gasps into the kiss but you don't let go just yet. His lips feel soft and you feel that you belong there. He relents and kisses you back then he's pulling away from you.

"What was that?" he asks you. He is a little dazed from the kiss. "Was that some kind of punishment?"

You felt a little guilty at his question. You kissed him to shut him up but then you've wanted to kiss him for quite some time now so that count more in this situation, right?

"I don't think I got what you mean by that. It's making me feel hot and dizzy."

"I—" you start to explain but he has already stepped back before you could finish.

"I need cold water. Sorry. Forgive me." He turns around and runs away.

You call out to him, but again, no sound comes out. You can't hear yourself call his name.

You're back at your bedroom, arm outstretched above you. You bring it to your face in frustration. Tears fall from your eyes until you're a sobbing mess. You dreamt of him again. You know in your heart that the dream is precious memory; a key to the blank period six months ago, when you mysteriously disappeared for days. But no matter how hard you try to recall, you can't remember his name.

Who are you?

Why do I miss you so much?

You lie in bed until the pain subsides into a dull ache. You take deep breaths to compose yourself and do a countdown.

In 10 seconds, I'll be fine. In 10 seconds, I'll function as a normal adult again.

10…9…8…7…

You get out of bed after the countdown, heading straight to your bathroom to start your day.

Bath. Breakfast. Check e-mails. TV. It's how you always started your day. But ever since that time, dreams of the silver-haired man has become a part of your routine too. It has been difficult but you actually welcome the dreams. You are afraid that you might forget him if the dreams stopped. You don't want to forget more things.

You leave your apartment by mid-morning, heading to your favorite artisan café. As a freelance writer, you can generally work anywhere but you recently found out that you work better at that particular café. The ambiance is relaxing and the shop mistress is nice to you. Sometimes, she would even let you taste some of their new menu items. She says it is to show that she values her regulars' opinions.

Chimes tinkled as you enter the café. The smell of coffee and sugar immediately comforts you, making the early-morning heartache fade just little. You head straight to the counter, exchanging quick pleasantries with the mistress as you ordered your usual: a grande iced latte and a slice of New York cheesecake topped with mixed berries.

Fortunately, your favorite spot by the corner near the counter is still free so you head there and set up to work. You eat while you work on your draft. Despite your day's rocky start, words flow easily into your short story. You have been working on it for almost a week now and your editor has scheduled a draft check by the end of the day.

You grind throughout the day, slowly eating your food as hours pass. You finish by the end of the day and immediately email it to your editor. You decide to go for another cup while you wait for their feedback. As you walk over to the counter, your attention is called to the news playing on the café's vintage radio.

"A religious cult involved in abductions, illegal drug abuses and other practices was caught red-handed by the police," radio commentator started. "Located deep into the Bukhansan Mountains, the local police raided the cult's headquarters, 'Magenta', and rescued the cult's believers. According to the police's spokesperson, the believers are forced to drink an elixir laced with narcotics and other illegal drug precursors."

You stop in your tracks at the mention of 'Magenta'. The word rings a bell in your brain but you can't remember why. Your breath hitches as random images pop into your mind: a Victorian-inspired room, followed by a room full of men in black hoods then a dank, moldy prison cell. Your sight almost blacks out as you experience a sudden splitting-headache. You consider it a small miracle that you manage to get back to your seat without fainting.

You quickly unplug your laptop and stuff all your notes into your bag. You need to get home fast. The last thing you need now is breaking down in public. You fight through the pain as you take the bus to your apartment. The usual 5-10 minutes commute felt like hours as you endure the throbbing inside your head. You couldn't reach your apartment fast enough.

Your bed is heaven as you sink in it, its softness enveloping you. The pain subsides slowly until you fell asleep again.

His warm hand breaks the chill that lingers in your body after a night of captivity in this dank, cold dungeon. He carefully supports you as you slowly sit up from lying on the floor. You movements are sluggish, probably one of the side-effects of whatever they made you drink earlier during the 'cleansing'.

"I'm going to get you out of here." He tells you. "You won't last in this place. I've been staying here for so long, so I know."

His voice calms you. If you focused on to it, you momentarily forget the pain currently cursing through your body. But why does it sound like he's in more pain than you are?

No, don't be sad. I don't want you to be sad.

You wanted to tell him that but your voice won't come. Your throat feels too raw to even attempt a squeak.

He sighs as he looks at you. You notice that his mint eyes are full of sorrowful resolve as you look back at him.

"Here, drink this. It's a sleeping med." He says, offering you a blue pill and water in a plastic bottle. "Take it and take a nap for just a little."

You weakly shake your head, having no desire to take in anything at the moment. You can still feel the burning traces of the elixir in your mouth and throat.

"Please." He begs as he squeezes your hand. "You'll already be outside by the time you wake up."

You shake your head again.

He scoots closer to you, pulling you towards him for an embrace. His scent surrounds you as you bury your nose on his shoulder.

"I'm the one who brought you here so it's my duty to get you back out." His voice cracks as little. "Trust me and take this med."

"No," you say weakly. "I'll stay with you." Talking hurt a lot but you needed to tell him that.

A sob escapes his mouth. He says your name as he cries. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make you happy." He pulls back from the hug to look at you again. His eyes are now red with tears. He leans down and your foreheads touch.

His breath tickles your nose but you don't pull back. You and him, you belong in there, in each other's arms. You don't want to leave. You want stay with him forever.

"I hope you stay happy outside." He whispers as he crosses the space between you. You taste the salt of his tears on his lips. So you kiss him back to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. When you felt the swipe of his tongue on your lower lip, you open them slightly to let him in.

His tongue slips something in your mouth. It's the sleeping pill. You try to pull back to resist but he holds you tightly. He pushes the pill deeper until you had no choice but to swallow it.

The pill's effect was immediate. You can already feel your eyes getting heavy. Tears fall on your cheeks. You can't believe he did this to you. "Why?" You ask as your throat constricts in pain, from the elixir or from the betrayal, you can't decide. "Saeran, why?"

He pulls back from your lips and proceeds to kiss your tears. "I'll miss you so much, MC. Goodbye, my first and last love."

You wake up with a gasp, heart beating like a drum inside your chest. You remember it all now. The dream you just had is the key to your locked memories and now everything is coming back to you. You remember the days you spent in Magenta, how you got there and how you got out. Most importantly, you remember his name.

Saeran. His name is Saeran.

You scramble out of your bed and opened your closet. You rummage through your clothes until you find the black lace dress Saeran has given you when you first came to Magenta. You hold it close as you cry. Everything is real. He is not just a dream. The dress is proof that those 10 days really happened. And with that realization comes the intense longing.

You miss Saeran terribly.

You remember him as the timid Ray, the guy who asked you to be the 'beta-tester' to the 'RFA Game' only to personally admit to you that the RFA are actual people whom you had befriended as well. You also remember when his personality changed after getting cleansed, how he became the cruel and hateful Saeran but in the end, his true self emerged and he apologized to you.

You remember how hard you had fallen for him, accepting all his personas. You willingly gave your heart to him and now, it looks like he still holds it. Since that day where you woke up in an unknown apartment after he gave you the blue pill, no man has ever caught your eye. It bothered you a little but now you understand yourself. Your heart remained with Saeran. Despite getting out and forgetting about Mint Eye, your heart continues to love him, secretly holding on to your precious memories until now.

You need to see him.

You remember the news that triggered your memories. Is he safe? Was he part of those that were arrested? V and the rest of the RFA will not let that happen right?

You quickly pick yourself up and start to get dressed. First, you need to check with the police station mentioned in the news and gather information. Maybe you could pretend to be a believer's relative and tell the cops that you're looking for them?

You check the news on various websites and find out that it's your City Police Department that handles the Mint Eye case. It's not too far from your apartment so you quickly book a cab to get there.

The station is full of media people when you get there. You can even recognize some of the reporters and writers among the crowd. It proves how much of a scandal the existence of Mint Eye is. You wonder how you can get into the station with all the people milling about.

"Do you need help, miss?"

You almost jumped in surprise. A man in their mid-30s is suddenly beside you. You didn't notice him approach you until he spoke.

"No, sir." You quickly decline the man. You clutch your hand bag firmly in case he hurts you on the spot.

"I insist." He says. "Perhaps I can be of assistance. My religion says that you must not miss any opportunity to do good no matter how small."

You back away from the man. "I appreciate the offer, but I really don't need help. Thank you though."

He grabs your hand, almost crushing your wrist and pulls at you. "Come on, let me help."

All the alerts inside your head are ringing now. You're scared and you have no doubt that you will get hurt by this man.

"Sir, you're hurting me. Let me go." You plead, cursing yourself for being weak.

"Let the lady go."

The man's face quickly paled and dropped your arm. "Mr. Saeran." He backs out and turned to run from the man currently standing behind you.

Meanwhile, you're rooted on your spot, unable to turn around. You recognize the voice. Afterall, it's the voice that haunted your dreams for months.

"You really need to be more careful, Miss. Your guard is too low."

You take deep breaths to calm your heart as you slowly turn around. And there he is, standing behind you: silver hair with red tips, kind mint green eye and a smile that never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Saeran." You almost say his name like prayer.

His lips curve into a small smile as he stares at you. "Hello, MC."