836-840

**Chapter 836: A Natural Transition**

"Director, aren’t you going to call 'action' today?"

Kristen felt a bit nervous. She had gotten used to the usual routines on set, and directors like Michel, with his whimsical, unpredictable style, were quite rare. Even someone as experienced as Kristen felt a bit off balance.

All eyes gradually turned toward Michel.

Michel hadn’t even sat down behind the monitor yet. He turned around to look at Kristen, blinked, and said, "Action."

Everyone on set: "..."

That’s it?

Without any warning, Michel abruptly announced the start of filming, catching everyone off guard.

But that was exactly the effect Michel wanted, blurring the lines between the film and reality, capturing raw and genuine moments from the actors, and infusing those authentic qualities into the characters and the film, giving them a more real and unique essence.

Caught off guard?

That’s the point.

However, after some time working together, the crew had become accustomed to Michel’s approach, and they were already mentally prepared:

Always be ready.

Regardless of the actors’ reactions, the crew was technically prepared for anything.

Kristen: "Uh..."

Anson: "..."

Michel’s unannounced "action" had clearly caught both Anson and Kristen off guard—they weren’t even in position.

Being out of position meant the two actors hadn’t even gotten into their roles, yet Michel just casually started the scene?

Kristen was baffled.

But unlike Kristen, Anson was already used to this and remained calm.

Anson gave Kristen a reassuring look and subtly lowered his right hand, signaling her to stay calm and just get into position and into character.

Then, without rushing, Anson walked out of the clinic, opened the door, and stood outside.

For this scene, it was Joel’s first appearance at the memory clinic, so Anson had to enter from outside. Even though Michel had already started filming early, the sequence still had to be followed. So, Anson had to leave and re-enter to begin the scene properly.

Now Kristen’s panic made more sense, right?

The scene was supposed to show Anson entering the clinic, yet Michel had already started filming with Anson still inside. Wasn’t that a continuity error or a mistake?

Watching Anson move methodically and calmly, Kristen started to feel more at ease. She took a deep breath, sat down at the reception desk, picked up the phone, and got into character.

Creak.

The clinic door opened.

Joel appeared.

His steps were hesitant. He stood in the doorway, carefully observing the clinic in front of him—

Nothing out of the ordinary, just a typical New York private practice; no special equipment, no notable posters.

Everything was as plain as could be.

Only the receptionist’s busy voice could be heard.

"Good morning, Memory Clinic."

Sweet, cheerful, and light. Even without seeing her face or expression, you could sense the innocence and charm in her voice.

Joel took a few steps forward, following the sound.

"No, sorry, that promotion ended after New Year’s."

"Of course, we can fit you in... How about the 5th? That’s a Wednesday."

Joel entered the clinic fully, seeing people flipping through magazines in the waiting area, and the busy blonde woman at the reception desk.

Her smile was sweet, her voice gentle, like the soothing flow of a mountain stream.

But Joel wasn’t paying attention to that. Without interrupting her work, he subtly surveyed the scene—

On the receptionist’s desk were a stack of manila envelopes, and a nearby printer was busily printing small, yellowish cards:

"Dear Sir/Madam,

Linda Chen has already sent your file to Eric..."

A quick glance was enough to notice that the cards were exactly the same as the one Joel had in his manila envelope—same material, same text, same tone.

Joel knew he was in the right place, but this realization caused him to waver.

People are strange like that—always craving the truth, yet feeling scared when they’re on the verge of discovering it, unsure if they’re truly ready to face it.

In that brief moment of hesitation, the blonde receptionist had finished her call. Without looking up, she politely asked,

"How can I help you?"

Joel glanced at her nameplate: **Mary Svevo**.

He cleared his throat. "I’m Joel Barish."

Mary still didn’t look up, as Joel had spoken too quietly and unclearly. "Sorry?"

Joel took a deep breath, raised his voice a little, and enunciated clearly, "Joel. Barish. I have an appointment with the doctor."

Joel couldn’t remember the doctor’s last name.

Mary smoothly continued the conversation, "Mierzwiak."

Confident, calm, assured. As soon as the name left her lips, her smile broadened, and she finally looked up at her guest.

She handed him a form, "Could you fill this out?"

Joel: "..."

Joel, still holding his envelope and the card inside it, felt awkward. He glanced between the card and the form, his eyes filled with confusion and uncertainty. "I, uh, I just wanted to talk to him."

Mary hesitated for a moment, then looked Joel over from head to toe, finally taking a proper look at his face.

With his scruffy beard, it seemed he hadn’t groomed himself in a while. He looked unkempt and down on his luck, yet his sharp features still showed beneath the weariness, with an air of sadness and vulnerability in his eyes.

Mary’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer, surprised by what she saw.

Joel, oblivious to this, showed signs of struggle and hesitation on his face.

Mary quickly gathered her thoughts, brushing off her curiosity. "You still need to fill out the form."

Joel’s tense shoulders relaxed a little. He took the form from Mary’s hand, still glancing between the card and the form—hesitating, unsure.

For a brief moment, Joel’s gaze flickered toward the door, feeling an urge to flee.

But in the end, he swallowed his words and thoughts, taking the form with him as he looked for a seat, suddenly remembering something.

"I, uh, don’t have a pen."

Joel looked to Mary for help, only to meet her gaze unexpectedly, their eyes locking for a second.

Mary froze.

Only now did Mary realize that she had been discreetly studying Joel, lost in thought. Their eyes met, and she saw the confusion and sadness in his, which made her pause briefly.

But just for a moment.

With an unintentional smile, Mary beamed brightly, perhaps too brightly, as if to shake off the moment and cover her distraction. Her dimples appeared as she pointed out, "There’s one right there. Yes, just there."

**Chapter 837: Just Right**

Mary's smile was bright and radiant, sweet and pure.

She kindly and warmly pointed toward the direction of the coffee table next to the sofa, indicating there was a pen there.

However, Joel didn’t immediately turn his head but glanced at Mary one more time.

This smile was different from any previous expression; it appeared so clear and bright, without any impurities, instantly dragging his thoughts back to his school days—a time of simplicity, without interests or games, just pure and straightforward.

It felt familiar.

Their gazes briefly met in the air.

It wasn’t ambiguous or lingering, yet there was a strange sense of déjà vu, as if they had known each other in another life.

But, in the end, it was just an illusion.

Joel only paused for a moment, just a brief second, then he withdrew his gaze. He found a spot on the sofa, huddled his shoulders, pulled his legs together, and curled up in the corner, trying his best to make his presence disappear.

Mary noticed the entire scene.

She was slightly taken aback, her smile lingering at the corners of her mouth without any particular emotion, then she too looked away and busied herself once again.

Perfect! Brilliant! Wonderful!

One exchange of glances, subtly revealing a feeling of timelessness, but it stopped just at the right moment, not offering any more possibilities. A brief contact, quickly broken off, like a wave that had just begun to rise before being smoothed out.

Everything was perfect, it couldn't have been better.

Michel almost wanted to scream with excitement—

This was exactly what he had been dreaming of.

Although it was a bit mischievous, Michel didn’t want to ruin the integrity of the film; otherwise, he wouldn't have hesitated to ask Charlie for his opinion. He knew himself that this unnecessary detail wasn't professional.

And now, it not only satisfied Michel's playful little idea of inserting an Easter egg but also maintained the quality of the film.

Michel couldn’t be happier!

“Cut.”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Michel habitually waited a moment to avoid breaking the actors' immersion, allowing them to stay in the atmosphere of the scene for a bit longer.

Then, on the monitor, you could see—

Mary was busy, continuing to stick names and addresses on the manila envelopes. But amidst her busy movements, there was a brief pause in her actions and her gaze.

She didn’t look up, just stayed in the moment, her eyes focused on the envelope, her focus slightly scattered, as if lost in thought.

It lasted only a millisecond.

In that brief moment, Mary resumed her busy work.

No change in expression, no extra movements, just a brief pause, but you could see the thoughts churning, as if she was trying to recall a memory, but in the end, she failed.

So.

She didn't dwell on it, throwing those scattered thoughts out of her mind, concentrating on her work.

That pause alone made the entire scene more complete.

In a way, this wasn’t just an Easter egg for Peter Parker and Mary Jane or Joel and Mary’s interaction. It was a setup for the next scene—

It was clear that Mary seemed to sense fragments of memories floating in her mind. It wasn't just a common moment of déjà vu in life; there was something more.

But Mary hadn’t figured it out yet and hadn’t linked it to the “Memory Clinic.” Like missing something obvious, she ignored her own state.

Then, there was nothing more. Perhaps this is what people experience in everyday life—the moments of déjà vu we've all had before.

Easter egg, foreshadowing, and details.

Everything was there, not only satisfying Michel’s mischievous streak but also making the film's narrative more seamless and complete. Both characters and plot were enriched.

“Cut!”

Michel couldn’t hold back any longer, excitement and joy bursting forth as he stood up, cheering like a volcano erupting.

At this moment, no words of praise were necessary.

Applause!

Michel raised his hands above his head, generously giving a round of applause to the two actors, clapping joyfully, excitedly, and ecstatically—

Kristen was outstanding, exceptionally outstanding. A little more would have been overdone, a little less wouldn't have hit the mark. The structure and outline of the character were clear and complete, absolutely deserving of applause.

And Anson didn’t steal the spotlight, contentedly playing the supporting role, staying true to the character without drawing attention away, yet subtly adding depth to Joel with every small gesture.

Most importantly, they nailed it in one take.

One take captured all the details and emotions, even with the early “action” and delayed “cut,” perfectly blending the on-screen and off-screen emotions.

Not just the actors, the entire crew could enjoy working under such conditions.

Words paled in comparison.

Michel led the applause, his smile beaming without reservation.

The crew, however, looked puzzled, glancing at the director with confusion:

Excuse me, were Kristen and Anson trying to present a reunion between Mary Jane and Peter Parker after breaking the fourth wall?

Some appreciated this kind of playful approach, others didn’t. You could tell from the crew’s reactions. But seeing the director’s joy, smiles began to spread across their faces too—whether amused, confused, or just happy. Regardless, the atmosphere remained harmonious.

Kristen, still seated, let out a long breath, finally relaxing, glancing at Anson who had stood up and stretched not far away.

They exchanged a glance, but this time, unlike in the film—

It was pure understanding.

Kristen gave Anson a thumbs-up, thanking him in her own way for guiding her. She knew that although the scene seemed simple and relaxed, without Anson's guidance and response, her performance wouldn’t have felt so effortless.

Anson spread his hands, as if basking in a wave of praise, graciously accepting Kristen’s thanks.

His posture made Kristen burst out laughing, clapping her hands.

As expected, the filming went smoothly.

The most crucial and core part was the actors’ deep understanding of their roles, the plot, and the atmosphere. They established a framework and outline for their characters according to their abilities, ensuring they could always find the right entry point into their roles.

For Michel, this was most important.

Because the script for *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind* was complex and intricate, they had to shoot out of sequence. One scene could be filled with affection, while the next might be heartbreaking. Moreover, Charlie’s script wasn’t fully completed, so both the actors and the crew had to figure things out as they went along.

This made the filming process especially fragmented.

If the actors didn’t have a clear and thorough understanding of their characters and the plot, they might get confused mid-shoot, not even knowing what they were acting out. For the crew, that would have been a disaster.

But now?

With actors like Anson and Kate leading the way, everyone knew their place, and even with the shuffled timeline and storyline, it didn’t matter—it was a huge help.

The chemistry and interaction between the actors were a pleasant surprise. Not only were the young actors in sync, but veterans like Tom Wilkinson were also humble and accommodating. None of the anticipated issues arose; the set was filled with laughter, lighthearted and relaxed.

Because of this, even when facing some setbacks, the crew could quickly adjust, helping each other out to ensure the shoot went smoothly.

Amid the tight shooting schedule, it was actually New York's unpredictable weather that caused the most trouble, something they hadn’t anticipated.

**Chapter 838: Snow and Ice**

“Cut!”

Michelle’s voice came through the walkie-talkie.

The villa door burst open, and a group of crew members rushed out onto the beach. They held large, warm blankets, quickly wrapping Anson and Kate, the two actors, tightly.

Anson didn’t take time to tend to himself. His first reaction was to reach out and pull Kate up from the snow, brushing the snowflakes off her as he gave her a concerned look.

“Are you okay?”

Kate nodded, reassuring him. “Honestly, I’m a bit warm now. I think I put on too many heating patches. Oh, Jesus Christ, your fingers—are you okay?”

Anson released his right hand and brought both hands together, blowing warm air into his palms, trying to thaw his fingertips.

Kate quickly pulled a heating patch from her pocket and stuffed it into Anson’s hand. “Hey, someone! Anson needs something hot! Hot cocoa, hot coffee, hot wine—yes, yes, yes, a bit of alcohol. His body temperature is dropping fast.”

Before she finished speaking, Noah appeared in front of Anson with a steaming cup of hot cocoa, staring intently at Anson’s pale face. “Anson, I added a little vodka.”

Anson didn’t hesitate, taking the cocoa and sipping it quickly.

The scorching warmth slid down his throat, hitting his stomach, and slowly his cold, stiff organs began to stir. It felt like he could hear ice cubes clinking inside him. His fingertips, toes, and knees tingled as they started to thaw.

At the moment, the *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind* crew was filming on a beach, likely the Atlantic coast of Montauk, on the northwest tip of New York.

Don’t get it wrong—Anson loved the ocean. He was a complete “ocean person.” Given a choice between forests, mountains, and the sea, he would always choose the sea.

Montauk, with its lonely, desolate landscape, felt like the edge of the world. A solitary lighthouse stood quietly at the deserted cape, and it was hard to imagine that just a few hours’ drive away lay one of the busiest cities in the world.

Silent, ancient.

Standing on the beach, gazing at the lighthouse, the world seemed to quiet down.

It was the kind of scene perfect for contemplation—a secret corner to think.

The first time Anson saw it, he fell in love with the place. He could understand why Charlie Kaufman’s script set the story in Montauk.

There was a sort of melancholy, a feeling of outcasts huddling together for warmth, closely connected by their sadness and loneliness.

The scenery was stunning.

But visiting a beach on the Atlantic side in the dead of winter? That was another story entirely. It was Anson’s first time seeing the ocean in winter, and he finally understood the endless, inescapable cold described in *Manchester by the Sea*.

Cold—that was one thing. The temperature was ten degrees below freezing, and the wind chill likely pushed it past minus twenty. But the wetness, the biting wind—standing outside, facing the sea, it was almost impossible to breathe.

The fierce winds felt like knives slashing his face. Even through thick layers of clothing, any small gap became an entry point for the piercing cold, silently draining his body heat.

He was chilled to the bone.

And then, the dreadful weather—

Heavy snow, thick and relentless. If it were just snowing, it wouldn’t be so bad, but every so often, the snow would turn into rain, sharp and cutting like daggers.

Not only physical attacks—magical ones, too.

Being outside was a test. His numb, frozen brain could no longer think, and even breathing was hard. Yet now, he had to stand in the wind and freezing rain for a long time, filming?

Impossible.

It was pure torture.

But that’s the charm of shooting on location.

In a studio, even with set designers and post-production effects creating a picturesque winter wonderland, the actors couldn’t fully experience the harsh conditions if they were in sunny California. Their performances could never fully capture the authenticity of the environment.

Only on location, immersed in the elements, could their bodies respond naturally. Blending the external world with their internal emotions allowed them to enter the film’s world and portray genuine reactions.

And that was exactly what was happening now.

The *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind* crew was filming in Montauk, shooting critical scenes from the movie—

Some were memories, some were fabrications, and others were reality.

The crew would be staying here for at least a week, possibly longer.

Montauk was being quite “cooperative,” starting with light snowfall on the third day, followed by some rain on the fifth day—horrible weather, but perfect for the film’s story.

In Anson’s memory, beaches were always associated with sunshine, palm trees, tropical vibes, and vacations. But now, for the first time, he saw a snow-covered beach—snow and the sea. It was a completely different scene.

Today, the crew was filming a scene where Joel and Clementine played in the snow on the beach.

In the first scene, Charlie Kaufman’s script had them waking up in a bed on the beach, mixing dream and reality in a surreal way.

In the second scene, Joel and Clementine had a snowball fight, though more accurately, Clementine was trying to play, while Joel was searching for “a corner of his memory where no one could find Clementine and erase her.”

It was a comedy for one and a tragedy for the other, one playing, the other running away.

In the first scene, both wore pajamas under the covers, but with no walls or roof, the wind came from every direction. Even wrapped in blankets, the cold could easily penetrate.

Naturally, to ensure Kate, who was pregnant, stayed warm, the crew had put in a lot of effort.

Overall, it wasn’t too bad.

In the second scene, they were playing, but Kate couldn’t move too much, so Anson had to take on most of the responsibility, using his performance to express the emotions and plot.

So, Kate was bundled up in layers, staying warm.

Anson, on the other hand, for the sake of movement, only wore thermal underwear underneath his parka, so he could move more freely.

Once he started moving, the icy wind made him feel like a popsicle.

He was cold—so cold he couldn’t think.

Turns out, making movies wasn’t as glamorous as it seemed.

As Anson and Kate ran around outside with the cameraman, the director and the rest of the crew stayed warm inside the villa, watching the monitors.

No comparison, no pain.

Anson clutched the hot cocoa Noah handed him, taking one sip after another. After a few sips, his fingertips finally regained some feeling.

“I think I finally understand why so many people in Hollywood turn to alcohol,” he muttered.

**Chapter 839: Bitter Cold**

"I finally understand why so many Hollywood people are fond of alcohol," Anson joked, despite his teeth chattering from the cold. The other crew members chuckled in response.

But Kate wasn't laughing.

Kate looked at Anson with concern. She was cold too, but after wrapping herself in a blanket and blocking the wind, her stiff muscles began to relax. Now, she was more worried about Anson.

His lips were pale, and his fingers trembled as he held a cup of hot cocoa.

Kate had experienced this before; she knew Anson wasn't in good shape.

"Anson, you need to warm up."

Anson raised his cup of hot cocoa, saying, "Cheers!"

He turned to Noah, giving him a thumbs-up as a sign of thanks, but immediately realized his stiff fingers could barely move. Seeing this, Anson burst out laughing at himself.

Kate shot him a glare.

Anson knew Kate was worried about him and that she still felt guilty for having to adjust the weight of her scenes due to her own physical condition. But in Anson’s eyes, Kate was facing far more risks than he was. Yet, she never complained and continued to work diligently.

They were both contributing to this project in their own ways.

Anson said, "Jack... wake up, Jack..." mimicking a heartbreaking scene from *Titanic*.

Kate rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a laugh. "Back then, we were filming in a studio pool; it wasn't cold at all. This is a completely different situation."

Anson took another sip of his cocoa. "It just proves that you and Leonardo are amazing actors. Your performances were so convincing."

Kate: ??? Really?

Seeing Kate's tense expression relax, Anson got back to the point. "I'm fine. I'm 20. If I don't take risks now, am I supposed to wait until I'm 30?"

Kate caught the teasing in his tone and slumped her shoulders in mock protest. "Hey, 30 is the new 18, okay?"

Anson laughed. "What I mean is, we should finish shooting as quickly as possible—that's the best way to reduce the pain."

"Honestly, I feel pretty good right now. But if I start running around, I might sweat, and then it'll really get cold when that sweat freezes."

"So, we need to speed this up."

Kate noticed some color returning to Anson's lips and nodded in understanding.

The harsher the conditions, the more focused they had to be. It was the only way to get the job done quickly and avoid being stuck on this freezing beach forever.

"Alright, let's do it again."

Anson chugged the rest of his cocoa, handed the cup to Noah, and shrugged off his blanket. He and Kate walked back to their starting positions outside the camera's view, ready for the next take.

This was a wide, long shot, with the camera positioned far away to capture the vastness of Montauk Beach and the interaction between the two characters. In these tough conditions, sound recording was difficult, and keeping the camera lens clear was just as challenging. Using a wide shot would not only showcase the grandeur of the beach but also highlight the two characters against it.

Michelle, the director, decided to focus on capturing the atmosphere of the scene, leaving the details of expressions and dialogue to the actors' improvisation.

Kate took a deep breath and glanced at Anson.

His jawline was tight, and his muscles, hidden under his coat, were stiff.

Pushing her worries aside, Kate forced herself to concentrate and fully immerse herself in the role. She kept repeating in her head, "This is a theme park, this is a theme park, this is a theme park!"

There was silence over the walkie-talkie.

After a moment of patience, Kate looked at the cameraman.

The camera was aimed, and the red light was on.

Apparently, Michelle had started filming early again.

Kate didn’t panic. She exchanged a glance with Anson, who, miraculously, seemed completely relaxed now.

No more cold. No more stiffness. He looked at ease, as if they were on a sunny Caribbean beach, with the raging wind and crashing waves nothing but a gentle breeze.

With a split-second shift, they were both in character.

No matter how cold it was, professionalism demanded that once the cameras rolled, they had to give it 100%.

Kate knew Anson was ready.

Suddenly, the wind howled, and snowflakes, not yet fully frozen, began to fall, covering the world in a misty blanket of white.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Clementine, full of joy and energy, ran out into the storm, arms wide open and head tilted back, embracing the flurry of snow and wind.

"Haha, hahaha!"

Her laughter filled the air, carried by the roaring wind.

A few steps behind her, Joel followed, looking a bit hesitant, his eyes fixed on Clementine’s back.

"Wow, this is awesome!"

Clementine sprinted along the edge of the snowy beach, just ahead of the waves. She laughed as the waves crashed, playfully moving away to avoid getting caught.

From behind, Joel's voice called out, "Be careful, be careful."

Clementine dodged the waves, but to her surprise, Joel, seemingly emboldened, dashed straight into them.

He jumped, landed—

Like a seven-year-old boy jumping into a puddle.

But the ocean isn’t a puddle.

Splat.

Joel landed, and the waves showed no mercy, soaking his pants and shoes, leaving him scrambling.

His knees buckled, and he nearly fell, clumsily retreating from the water.

"Hahaha!"

Clementine laughed uncontrollably at the sight, clutching her sides.

Joel saw this and spread his arms, charging toward Clementine like a bomber plane, as if he were about to tackle her like a football player.

Clementine squealed, "Ahh!" and instinctively bent down to grab some snow, trying to throw it at Joel before she could even form a snowball.

But in her panic, the snow scattered aimlessly, not even coming close to hitting Joel.

As Joel looked up at her, Clementine, still laughing, waved her hands in surrender, bouncing away like a rabbit, trying to escape.

Joel, playing along as the big bad wolf, chased after her.

Laughter echoed around them.

Clementine paused mid-chase, her eyes lighting up as she spotted the beach house nearby.

"Our house!"

And just like that, she sprinted toward the cottage.

**Chapter 840: Free Fall**

"Our house?"

What house?

Joel didn’t have time to think. He watched as Clementine sprinted off, waving and calling out.

"Keep up! Keep up!"

That smile, like a blooming flower, stood out brightly in the icy, snowy landscape.

Joel clumsily ran after her, stumbling as he went. “We have to go...”

With a lurch, Joel grabbed Clementine's legs and fell to the ground. Clementine, who had been waiting for Joel, couldn’t dodge and collapsed with him, but she didn’t seem to mind. She kept laughing.

Only Joel was worried.

"We... we have to go, Clementine."

Joel struggled to get up, but Clementine quickly rose to her knees and tackled him back down—

A snowball fight.

Clementine piled snow onto Joel’s face like a playful child. She even helped smear a snow mask over his face, laughing as his eyes, nose, and mouth disappeared under the snow.

Joel thrashed about like a fish out of water but was careful not to hurt Clementine with too much force.

“Cle... Clementine…”

He called her name repeatedly, but she didn’t respond—just stuffed his mouth with more snow. Joel finally gave in, joining Clementine in the snow, using his hands like penguin wings to fling snow back at her.

They played like two five-year-olds, more and more enthusiastic as they went.

In the middle of their frolic, Joel suddenly snapped out of it, clapping his hands to his sides and shouting, “Now’s not the time for playing around!”

But Clementine leapt onto him again, lying on top of Joel, pressing her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

However, it was just a trick.

While distracting Joel, Clementine sneakily gathered more snow and tossed it onto his face without even looking up. Joel spat out the snow, and she couldn’t contain her laughter anymore, bursting out in joy.

Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

Before long, Joel had become a snowman.

Lying in the white snow, Clementine and Joel rested quietly. The deep blues and greens of the sea blended like ink on rice paper, with Clementine’s bright red hair glowing like a flame, contrasting beautifully with the serene laughter, creating a pure moment of happiness.

For just a fleeting second, time seemed to stand still.

Until Joel came back to his senses—

Now wasn’t the time to bask in happiness. It was because he cherished this happiness so much that he needed to stop the Memory Clinic’s process. He had to hide Clementine somewhere safe in his memories before she was completely erased.

Joel glanced toward the camera as if it were the ominous figure of the man in black, coming to erase Clementine from his memory. His face showed a hint of panic.

In a sudden move, Joel pulled Clementine close, hugging her tightly with all his strength.

Then, he stood up.

Joel helped Clementine to her feet. "We need to go. Now. Right now."

But after only a few steps, Clementine tugged on his hands and flopped to the ground, sitting as if she were on a sled.

“I have no idea where we’re even going,” Clementine whined playfully.

Her face was full of mischief, her eyes sparkling with joy—she just wanted to be with Joel, to play with him.

Joel didn’t have time to look back, dragging Clementine forward.

Pull, pull, pull.

"It’ll be fun. I promise, it's going to be great there," Joel said, dragging her toward the west.

But Clementine kept talking about “our house,” pulling Joel toward the east. “No, no, this way! We’re going here.”

Joel shook his head vigorously. "That way!"

"Oh, Clementine, you’re not helping at all!"

Clementine leaned back, fully playing her part in the sledding game, and Joel struggled like a man pulling a barge along the Volga River, trudging forward with great difficulty.

The snow was thinning, revealing the sand beneath.

Joel’s strength was failing, and eventually, he collapsed.

But he still didn’t give up. Turning around, he grabbed Clementine by the arms from behind, and with great effort, began dragging her through the snow like a snail.

Huff, huff.

Clementine was delighted, her laughter ringing out. Her royal-blue knit hat slipped off, revealing her bright red hair, and her laughter echoed in the sea breeze.

Ha ha, ha ha ha.

Joel focused on his task. "Clementine, we need to leave, we need to..."

Huffing and puffing, he suddenly realized—

Clementine was gone.

The camera cut to Kate, who rolled away playfully, lying in the snow and gazing quietly at Anson.

Joel was still pulling, but the weight in his hands had vanished, and he tumbled backward in a mess, sprawling on the ground.

But Joel didn’t have time to worry about anything else. He looked down at his empty arms, then frantically scanned the area.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The snow-covered beach was in disarray, but now it was just him. Clementine had vanished without a trace.

Joel froze, forgetting even to call out her name. He just stared blankly ahead, looking at the deep, roaring blue sea. His shoulders slumped slightly but then stayed still, caught in an awkward posture, rigid and unmoving.

Though his face and eyes couldn’t be seen, the sense of confusion and loss was palpable from his side and back. From happiness and laughter to sudden solitude, the vast emptiness made him look especially alone.

Without realizing it, Kate held her breath.

Inside the villa, Michel watched the monitor, lost in thought:

If only everything could freeze in this moment, he thought. A simple happiness, just before the memories were lost, and in that instant, realizing how precious they were, trying desperately to hold on.

But the harder you try, the faster it slips away. The more anxious you become, the more you lose your grip.

And then, you’re left confused.

It wasn’t sadness, or pain, or despair—just confusion.

And that confusion hurt even more.

On screen, Joel, who had been trying so hard just a second ago, suddenly stopped. No more movement, no more shouting. Nothing. He just held that pose, the only changes barely noticeable. After blinking a few times and seeing nothing change, he began to doubt his eyes, wondering if it was just the wind distorting his senses. Joel remained frozen in place.

But that scene, without any dramatic emotion, hit harder than any other performance could have. It broke through defenses, catching you completely off guard.

Yet, there were no tears—just a heavy sigh, like a ball of cotton stuck in the chest.

Quietly, Michel continued watching.

Until a chill crept up from his feet, snapping him out of it.

“Cut!”