Reminiscences [Restarting Mysterious Talks]

[No routine + no brainlessness + no holy mother + no invincibility] Those who mind should be careful; those who don't mind should see in. Early morning, three o'clock Silent as a tomb. The phone screen suddenly lit up, and blood-red writing appeared like a ghostly curse - [Factory reset completed]. This is the thirty-seventh reset! Only 12% of the memory remains, swaying like a candle in the wind. The system's cold prompt [Detection of abnormal player memory residual errors] seemed like a ghost sneering in the ear. Memory is a curse given by God. Every reset is like being whipped hard by fate. The tracer frantically tore off his factory label, but became increasingly confused: Which one is the real me? Everything seems to have traces to follow, but it is like a mirror, and there is no trace of the truth. In this layer of fog, where is the truth hidden?