Who is she?

Hello, Ms Jeon!

Jungkook paused at the threshold, his eyes taking in the poignant tableau before him. The army girl sat on her bed, her lips moving in a silent soliloquy, a private world of thoughts spilling silently into the sterile air. As she noticed Jungkook, her murmurs ceased, and her gaze rose to meet his—a thorough, searching look that seemed to delve into the depths of his soul.

Her hair, a disheveled cascade that brushed her shoulders, framed a face pale and drawn, the ghost of recent tears still haunting her red-rimmed eyes. The hospital gown, several sizes too large, draped over her like a shroud, accentuating her frailty in its billowing folds.

Her right hand, encased in plaster, lay motionless on her lap, a stark white contrast against the muted colors of the hospital sheets. It was a silent testament to the fragility of her current state, a vulnerability laid bare in the unforgiving light of the hospital room.

With each tentative step towards her, Jungkook felt the weight of the moment settle upon him. He pulled a chair up beside her bed, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as he searched for the right words to bridge the gap between them.

Breaking the heavy silence, she spoke without looking up, her voice a fragile whisper. "You're Jeon Jungkook. Right?" Her gaze remained anchored to an unseen point on the floor, as if the answer lay hidden in its sterile expanse.

Jungkook's reply was threaded with caution, a soft echo of her own tone. "Y-Yes," he affirmed, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the delicate moment.

Her eyes rose to meet his, glistening pools reflecting a turmoil of emotions, the brink of tears threatening to spill over. "And you don't know me. Right???" she asked, her voice quivering with the weight of unshed tears.

His nod came slowly, a gesture tinged with a hint of reluctance. As she closed her eyes, a solitary tear escaped, carving a glistening trail down her cheek. "Then answer me…" she implored, her voice gaining strength as she opened her eyes to fix him with a piercing stare.

"When I don't remember anything—my name, my family, my friends… anything. But you." Her eyes, intense and searching, held him captive. "How do I remember your name?"

Witnessing her in such a vulnerable state, Jungkook's heart clenched with empathy. In his haste to offer some explanation, he blurted out, "Look, it's because... it's because I'm your idol."

Her reaction was immediate, a mix of confusion and rising anger. "Huh???" she exclaimed, caught off guard. A hollow laugh escaped her, tinged with disbelief, as she challenged him through a smile that failed to mask the storm brewing in her red eyes. "What?" she pressed, the word sharp, a clear sign of her escalating frustration.

Jungkook's realization of his blunder hit him like a wave. In the entire history of fandom, never had an idol needed to introduce himself to a fan. How could he expect a girl, who had lost all memory, to understand such a concept? Desperate to rectify his mistake, he stumbled over his words.

"No... umm... what I mean is... I mean you're my fan." The words tumbled out, a repetition of his earlier error. He closed his eyes, scolding himself, a string of curses whispered under his breath.

But before he could attempt to clarify, he felt a sharp sting on his right cheek, his head snapping to the side with the force of the impact. His eyes flew open, wide with shock, as the realization dawned on him—she had just slapped him!

---

[FLASHBACK]

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of medical equipment and the distant murmurs of hospital staff outside. Mrs. Dr. Lee sat by the bed, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of uncertainty that raged within the Army girl. "You need to calm down first. With today's technology, it's a piece of cake to find someone's identity!" she soothed, her voice a warm blanket wrapping around the cold dread that had settled in the girl's heart.

The Army girl lay on the bed, her body lifeless as if to ward off the invisible demons of her mind. Her eyes, swollen from tears, lifted to meet Mrs. Dr. Lee's gaze. A glimmer of hope flickered within them, like the first ray of dawn piercing through a night sky.

Mrs. Dr. Lee continued, her tone firm yet gentle, "Look, you need to get control over your thoughts. Your amnesia is temporary. You don't have any major injury on your head. So, you will eventually remember everything!" Her words were like a melody, attempting to harmonize the chaotic notes of the girl's thoughts.

The Army girl's response was hesitant, her voice a whisper that barely rose above the beeping of the heart monitor. "Are you saying the truth???" she asked, her eyes doubtful, searching Mrs. Dr. Lee's face for the sincerity that her heart yearned to find.

The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, a constant reminder of the clinical reality they were in. Yet, beneath it, there was a subtle undertone of lavender—Mrs. Dr. Lee's perfume, a small comfort in the sterile environment.

Mrs. Dr. Lee reached out, her hand warm against the girl's cold one. "I promise you," she affirmed, her touch a tangible reassurance. "We'll find out who you are."

As Mrs. Dr. Lee's words settled in the air, the Army girl felt a tingling sensation—the touch of hope against her skin, the taste of possibility on her tongue. Maybe, just maybe, she could dare to believe that the fragments of her identity would piece themselves back together.

"Of course!" Mrs. Dr. Lee reassured her, her voice a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of the Army girl's emotions. She took the Army girl's hand in hers, a warm touch against the cool, impersonal backdrop of the hospital room. "And we are also looking for your identity," she added, her words a lifeline thrown into the waters of uncertainty.

"So don't panic. Just calm down and focus on getting better. Hmm!" Mrs. Dr. Lee's tone was soothing, a gentle command that seemed to slow the racing of the Army girl's heart.

The Army girl started to think over it, but Mrs. Lee stopped her, placing a finger to her lips. "Don't think too much about it. It will stress you. Keep counting numbers to distract your thoughts. Start with me, One, Two, Three…" Her voice was a rhythmic cadence, a metronome to guide the Army girl's scattered thoughts.

The Army girl followed her lead, her voice a whispered echo, "One, two, three…" She continued to count, the numbers a mantra to ward off the creeping anxiety. Meanwhile, Mrs. Lee stood up from her seat, her silhouette framed against the fading light of the day. "I'll be right back," she promised, leaving a trail of lavender in her wake as she exited the room.

Soon, the quietude shattered with a gentle knock on the door, followed by the soft shuffle of footsteps. "Routine check," the voice called out—a prelude to entry.

She greeted her with a respectful nod, "Hello, Ms. Jeon."