As the doctor and police officer approached my bed, the doctor asked if Ryan was alright to answer some questions. Ryan pretended to be dazed, slowly responding to the doctor's inquiries. "I feel a bit of pain in my head, and everything else is good," I said, "but why am I here? What's wrong with me?"
The doctor was taken aback by my question. "Don't you remember being hurt in the alley?" he asked. Ryan responded, "In the alley? Which alley? And when was I hurt?" Ryan hugged his head, pretending to be in pain, and took a few deep breaths before telling the doctor, "I don't know how I was hurt."
The police officer then took over, asking me if Ryan remembered his name. Ryan replied immediately, "Ryan." When he asked where Ryan lived, Ryan stared blankly, and the doctor intervened, explaining that he seemed to have memory problems due to my head wound.
The doctor told the police officer to wait until Ryan was confirmed to be alright before asking further questions. The officer agreed, and the doctor turned to him, explaining that Ryan would need to undergo some tests. Ryan agreed to cooperate, and the doctor took him for a series of scans and tests.
Later that evening, the doctor informed me that Ryan had indeed lost my memory due to the head wound. He prescribed medication and recommended a brain specialist to help him regain my memory. The doctor also told me that the police would take me home the next morning, hoping that familiar surroundings might help trigger my memory.
Ryan thanked the doctor and returned to my bed, thinking to himself that everything seemed to be going smoothly. Ryan just had to wait until the next day to go home and start making plans to obtain the NZT drugs as soon as possible.
The next morning, Police Officer Jack arrived to take him home. As we prepared to leave, he told me about my previous life. "Hello, Mr. Ryan. Nice meeting you again. I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. My name is Jack, and I work in the LYPD. After investigating your information, we found that you lived in a rented apartment on Charles Street, worked as a waiter at a coffee shop near your house, and had a limited social circle. Sorry to say, but you don't have any relatives; you were an orphan."
As Ryan listened to Jack's summary of his past life, Ryan thought to himself that his previous self had a somewhat tragic backstory, reminiscent of a protagonist's design. Ryan responded to Jack by saying, "Thanks, Jack, and sorry for the trouble. Can you take me home?" Jack agreed, and they left the hospital after completing the necessary paperwork. As Ryan saw the hospital bill, he thought to himself that they wouldn't let him go even after he lost his memory, and they had already deducted money from his account.
After a short drive, we arrived at Charles Street, and Officer Jack dropped me off in front of my house. Ryan stepped out of the car and thanked him, "Thanks for driving me home and for the information." Officer Jack reassured me, "Don't worry, Ryan, it's our job. We'll do our best to catch the person who assaulted you."
Ryan responded with a polite, albeit awkward, smile, thinking to himself, how could they find the culprits as there was none. Officer Jack didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary and drove off after I nodded in appreciation.