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Kim Rok Soo can't remember his mother's touch, he's sure he had one, a father too, but that was a long time ago. It's one of the few things he can't remember and if he does, it's momentary and fuzzy, even Record can only help him so much.
Sometimes he mistakes the phantom touches for others, less kind and loving, after all those few memories he retains are buried under layers and layers of pain, far enough away that his useless hands can't ruin them.
There are days where remembering is harder than ever, where the ghosts start out soft and then dig their nails in as if they want to tear him apart. Sometimes he fights. Sometimes he doesn't.
On good days he can even glimpse a fragment of his father's smile, of his mother's long eyelashes, of peach color in their nails that he can't tell if it's natural or polish.
On bad days... it's not his parents he remembers.