I... I am astonished. The light shines down on me and rips me to shreds. The most agonizing pain a man- no, a soul could ever go through. My very being was being torn apart, bit by bit, and I feared the absolute worst. A doubt that plagues me like one hundred sandstorms compounded into a wooden shed.

  But truth be told... the fear went away, after some time.

  Miss Jolivette's words resonated in my mind, circled and swirled around my head, instilling me with confidence. As I endured this pain, I kept it in my heart that this was a trial... a test to reveal my true self. I knew nothing, and Miss Jolivette found stuff from that nothing. My words made sense after Miss Jolivette's interpretation, forming a clear picture of who I was.

  Everything she said felt true, and my soul was trying to reject that truth. I was simply too weak-willed as an amnesiac... and... well, Miss Jolivette trusted me to be strong, believed that I was ready, and encouraged me to take a step forward and accept my fate.

  Accept the truth that I grew up a son to a desert chicken farmer... that I ran away to follow my dreams of fish, that I endured such strife with a target on my back... as long as I accept this truth, my being would survive... granted the strength to endure, to live, to- to go on. It was as simple as accepting it to be true.

  And I felt... reborn. Constructed and remade, brought to a rejuvenating peace as the pain swells up in my heart, and echoes out in an unyielding declaration- one made in Miss Jolivette's name, one made for my own sake, one made to proclaim to all of this world...

  "... I- I REMEMBER- EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIING-!!!!!"

  The voice resonates throughout the auditorium, a shockwave sent throughout the stands. His voice proclaiming his resolve in spectacular fashion, screamed for all to hear.

  Everyone in that auditorium beholds Sandy Ghost and stares at him in... astonishment. All of the audience, and all on stage... no one could look away.

  Especially not Yvette, who - after lying, after making ALL of that up - is rewarded for her dishonesty, absolutely staring in astonishment as Sandy Ghost has been turned into a buff, muscular supermodel bodybuilder of a man in front of thousands of ghosts. The sand incinerated his body, his breath hyperventilating as he stared at his burnt and smoky palms.

  Though, while his sand was incinerated... Sandy Ghost kept one thing: the color.

  In a world of monochrome, pure black and white with only gray, only a few people defied that standard. Yvette, with red eyes and brown hair, is one of them. The other Realm Keeper in the room—Astra, who possessed a vibrant orange—is another.

  And now, as he stands before everybody as an enlightened spirit, Sandy Ghost stands with a golden yellow. A reflection of a man crafted and sculpted from the purest of sand, made into a shirtless man with an Olympian physique. Utterly awe-inspiring, a warmth and beauty to even rival the colorless deity that came before him.

  "I... I thank you all, for coming here today..." Sandy Ghost calls out, his body still trembling. "And I am honored... to come before you as... 'Saleh'."

  From that point on, Sandy Ghost—or, rather, Saleh, a name derived from righteousness and piousness—was brought forth to speak his truth, to tell his life's story to all who would listen... and, in essence, confirmed everything Yvette lied about.

  His soul... accepted the truth, that he was a man who grew up on a farm. A farm that was situated in a desert, was set up near an oasis. A long family history spanning back countless generations, where all who would travel through would be offered sanctuary in the coziest of inns and given the tastiest of eggs and meat.

  Saleh was, in fact, one of three sons brought under the roof of his home. His older two brothers, the ones set to carry on the family legacy, were praised and honored for their hard work as the oldest. Being the third son, he would never achieve such an honor... especially due to his aversion to chicken.

  No, he was—in spirit—a vegetarian. He survived only on the waters of his home, and the eggs that were laid. He could not stomach the skin of a living chicken, only the products of their work. His family treated him as a burden, a shameful burden on their legacy, and... he fled. He left. He sought to flee from his home to find a life for himself at such a young age.

  Fish peddling was not a passion he was born with, but one he took a liking to when he arrived at the coastline... spending years upon years of his life, dedicating himself to the work. He made an honest day's work, catching fish in the most hostile of seas, and subsequently made money from it.

  Yvette told nothing but the truth, and Saleh simply added more details. The mafia was real, the ones that took him out for wanting to go independent with his fish... the people that arranged for the most traumatic incident of his life, blending his world to the point where he knew not what part of his life he was still in. Everything haunted him to the point where he lost all meaning to his life...

  "... until now, as I stand before all of you as... Saleh," he proclaims. "And I must thank... Miss Jolivette... for helping me to this conclusion. With her, I found the motivation to... to accept my fate, no matter how gruesome. Her words give me strength, power, and will. All of it, all to bring me before you."

  A cold chill goes down Yvette's spine as her eyes sparkle in the glory of this accident. Staring into Saleh's warm, resolute gaze with not a single muscle in her body able to move, Yvette is just in utter shock at how lucky she got.

  Saleh accepts her gaze as pride, however. Miss Jolivette, in her short stature and their short time together, has been the most supportive person he's met in all of Nihil. She is a miracle in this despair-ridden realm and instilled into him... hope.

  ... and he holds a hand out to Yvette, directing all eyes to gaze upon this kind soul. "Please, Miss Jolivette. Stand with me, so that I may share this moment with you."

  There's...

  ... no way that Yvette's passing this up.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Yvette wants the credit for this. Accident or not, she totally caused this. That Astra guy that helped a deity? Only got as far as a placeholder name, after a few years or something. No, here Yvette is, having taken two whole days to help out the golden goose before her. Yvette's a little high on the superiority that this gives her, that she did better than a guy that helps gods.

  So Yvette walks up to Saleh- and has her hand taken in his gentle, chiseled grasp. The way his hand felt- it was a mixture of softness and tenderness, swirling together with a rigid tenacity.

  And this hand keeps her grounded as the auditorium erupts in applause.

  That deafening sound of cheers, of people cheering for Saleh, transfers to Yvette.

  Is this what it feels like? It feels good to be recognized like this. The girl just stares out into a sea of people, standing side by side with Saleh- standing alongside him in his moment of glory. A proud, vibrant warmth in this moment. Yvette just... Yvette soaks it in and takes in the beauty of this moment. That eye-sparkling, oh-so-wonderfully blinding moment of fame and glory.

  And it doesn't stop there.

  Saleh takes a step to the side, and... next up is a different ghost.

  Yvette rode this high as she stared at this woman, thinking to herself... what is this girl's deal? Is there anything at all that indicates her identity?

  Well, she's in some sort of dress... has a bit of makeup on her face, and her hair seems well done and well kept. The signifiers are enough to assume she's some sort of wealthy woman, but there's something about her dress that... hm. The dress's shoulders are poofy...

  ... is this a maid dress? Could be she some sort of servant? A kind of handmaiden that had to attend to some rich emperor, waiting on him hand and foot? Did things like... tuck him into bed, or wash his clothes?

  Yvette takes a solid gamble on this, taking the time to really... describe it, to come up with something similar to what she did for Saleh. People were more... open... to what she had to say, to what she was making up. After all, she's done it once for the buff and muscular golden ghost that has the utmost fate on her, maybe there's a method to her madness.

  And her madness causes another scream.

  "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!"

  Another agonizing scream, one that rings throughout the auditorium again. The audience would have responded in concern and fear, but instead reacted with just mild discomfort and general patience.

  Yvette feels less... concerned, as this woman screams, as the same thing that happened to Saleh happens to this next ghost. Body ripped to shreds- with the maid outfit itself starting to morph and shape into something elegant, something more- mesmerizingly ethereal.

  Apparently, this ghost took to heart how Yvette sprinkled in a bit about how she became wed to a man of high status, elevating her up to prosperity- and in doing so, her fall ended up stripping her of everything she ever came to know about her life, bringing her to a slow demise of passing away, and...

  "... and I am honored to come before you, as I was called... 'Iris'," the ghost calls out, her soul morphed into an elegant and graceful lady. A woman whose maid outfit simply morphed and turned into a ceremonious cerulean dress. Her long locks of coal blew in a passive wind, with calming and cooling blue emanating from her body. Everything about her exudes high class and honor. "Thanks to Miss Jolivette... she has made me wise to the fate that befell me.

  Yvette has to be honest, Iris is following the trend that Saleh ended up setting. Both of these ghosts are becoming vibrantly colorful images of perfection, which multiple ghosts would consider hot and attractive. This is a weird thing to experience.

  Next, a guy that Yvette's now realizing is wearing a tiger print fur coat... probably a tough guy, a down-to-earth man of the streets. Maybe a gangster, maybe some street cleaner who did things to clean up his town? Well, his demise must have been an act of justice. A kind of vigilante justice, perhaps?

  "And my name is 'Volkner', a man that patrolled the streets of my homeland and protected my people from crime," the ghost proclaims, emanating a faded orange while donning street urchin attire. A walking mob boss with a cigarette in his mouth, his steely gaze staring out at the audience. "My methods were unethical... but I defended my people— protected them from all those bad people that sought to hurt children and put people in debt. I remember them cheering me as a hero, and yet... I stand before you with regret, that I could have done better."

  His muscles are more toned than Saleh's...

  ...

  Next, there was a small, tiny ghost that was about three feet tall, and—

  "I wished with all my heart that I would be able to feed the world with my cherry farms," the ghost proclaims, wearing a red cloak over a bland peasant's tunic. "It's taken me years to come to terms with- you know, having it all set on fire... and dying from a heart attack of sadness, all because I... I couldn't make a difference. But- but at the very least, I'm happy to say that I remember my dad, everything he stood for, and- and I know he called me his little 'Cecilia'."

  Rather than being attractive and muscular and beautiful, this one was cute. She was as cute as a puppy, with a pure and innocent face. One that stares out into the crowd with sparkly eyes.

  Next up—

  "I am 'Holden'..." the next one calls out, his soul a shiny silver as he salutes to the audience as a soldier. A modest appearance until one looks at his beefy and well-toned legs. "And thanks to Miss Jolivette, I- I found closure. I fought for a cause I did not believe in, and now... I stand before you, ready to find a new purpose with my identity restored."

  And it continues.

  One after the other, Yvette's going utterly overboard with their souls, relying on her intuition about all of their identities just from appearances.

  "'Georgia' is the name, don't wear it out!" proudly exclaims the walking cowgirl with a modest gray cowboy hat atop her braided, long purple hair. "I know what you're thinking, I thought the same thing! 'Did she really end up getting trampled by a stampede of horses all because of debt?' But thanks to Miss Jolivette, I know that... it DID happen. And I am ready to come to terms with that!"

  "Fenwiiiiick!" loudly shouts the punk rock singer with magenta highlights in his hair, a top 50 rock artist who suffered a dramatic and romantic breakup with his talent manager, and lost his passion for music until now.

  "Kwame—" modestly calls out a ghost who morphed into a thick parka with a mint green aura. An explorer of icy tundras who sought the existence of a massive monster for 40 years of his life.

  "Lachlan," declares the vibrant green archer, who got banned from ever holding a bow thanks to a gambling incident- to which everyone he knew and loved simply abandoned him.

  And Yvette's gone so overboard that the last three ghosts left—Miguel, Minh, and Anastasia—are the three that Yvette doesn't even pay attention to whatsoever! Nothing about their stories, their transformations. No, Yvette's desensitized! She made up the biggest lies about these three that ended up just working out!

  This was a high for Yvette, a euphoria that sort of... made her feel enthusiastic about her job. She didn't have to work so hard to do all that boring information recording and got to experience the... the point of all this. The point being that she- she gets to do this with billions of people! Billions to add to her little gallery of gratitude and change!

  By sheer- freaking- accident, one by one, Yvette has somehow caused instantaneous breakthroughs in their memories! All of them screamed in pure, pure agony, sure, but they morphed and woke up to their new souls! Their very, very attractive and colorful souls!

  Through her actions today—her improvised antics throughout the entirety of this ceremony—the ceremony held will be known as the "Screaming Revelation of 4-C". The momentous occasion where twelve whole amnesiacs all instantaneously remembered their souls' existences after a fit of uproar. A phenomenon that was utterly unheard of, something that just... doesn't happen, naturally.

  And for now, Yvette is basking in the limelight that this success granted her, a metaphorical pair of star-shaped sunglasses covering her face. The fame absolutely went to her head as the miracle worker who could see into an amnesiac's soul and bring out their potential with one look.

  This so-called miracle worker stands with the twelve ghosts she just enlightened, all on a random whim...

  ... and bows before the crowd, subjecting herself to the most grand of applauses.