The Enhanceless and the Phantom

Chapter 21

Cyrus's whole body throbbed, but he could no longer ignore the aridity in his mouth and throat. Every other body part begged him to stay in bed: his hollow stomach, weak arms, and thundering headache. He tried to stretch, but his headache amplified into a full internal storm. He needed water, and perhaps some type of food. Rolling off his unruly bed onto the unforgiving floor, his feet splashed in some substance that was not water. He barely noticed it as he hobbled off to his bathroom. The room felt draftier than usual. He paused and looked down. His hairless chest was completely exposed, as was the rest of his body. The memories started flooding in.

"No, no, no, no," Cyrus cringed as he held his head. The dancing dragon bar hologram was the most vivid. He saw himself entering the bar alone. Sitting alone. Drinking alone. He never had an issue with alcohol; however, the past twenty-four hours had changed what he thought he knew about himself. The memories continued to align as he stumbled to find his glasses and a pair of underwear.

The next wave of images involved him taking pictures with fans, faking smiles and laughs, buying drinks for many women, gulping beer, buying drinks for the whole bar, and shamelessly badmouthing Realm. He could not remember exactly what he said but remembered a gist of the insults and belittling. He almost prayed no one recorded his rant.

Cyrus found a decent pair of underwear hanging on his dresser knob. He still couldn't find his glasses. He unfurled the windows to try to see better, but a piercing light shattered and overloaded his senses.

"Ah," Cyrus quickly closed the blinds to return the room to its dim state. He finally found his glasses abandoned on the untidy floor. He placed them on as the last, crucial memory flooded back. There was a girl. Her bangs. Her pink dress. Her name? Her name. Ivy, Iris, or Isa? Cyrus cursed at himself. She was the only one who didn't throw herself at him, and that made her desirable even without the drinks. Cyrus' memories became more blurred but he knew she walked him home...ILANA!

"Ilana?" Cyrus asked into the room, he could only speak so loud before his head hurt too intensely. There was only the melody of air conditioning in response. He pulled some sleeping pants on to be presentable and searched his apartment for his, um, Ilana. Her face, hair, hips, and all her body became more real in his mind as the blurred memories became collages. Pushing up his glasses frantically, he rushed into the living room of his apartment. She was here, they did stuff out here. Cyrus felt as if his dignity was drowning in regret. He then remembered the reason he went to that bar alone.

"Honestly," he felt that all too familiar sinking feeling, but it attacked the core of what he believed of himself. Everything felt hollow, hopeless, and humiliating all over again. Regardless, he still needed to get ready for work.

"I can still save this," he muttered to himself. I just need to find out what Dawn is hiding sooner now. And that will lead to the new gang leader and that will lead to answers. I just have to move faster.

Cyrus manifested three phantoms to begin the cleaning. One looked at him and crossed its arms while analyzing the chaos.

"What, no one has to know," Cyrus defended as he cradled his head with his palm. He paced back to his room to find a pair of sunglasses before searching the bedroom for some pain pills and a water cup. Downing the relief medicine, he stuffed a snack-sized red bean cake into his mouth since couldn't stomach any more food. He slowly changed into his phantom suit, it felt different, like it held less authority. He just needed his wallet now.

He spent half an hour and six phantoms in search of his wallet. All his memories at the bar returned, but he barely remembered anything that happened when he reached- they reached the apartment. He opened his eyes. All the phantoms stopped searching.