669 delved deep into a memory that felt foreign: a building crumbling down all around him. People being slain. And a large burning banner falling on his face. It was of a time he was a young boy. No older than five, he had guessed from his height and chubby cheeks. But he shouldn’t be seeing this in his dreams or subconscious. His life had restarted at sixteen. No memory should have penetrated the Majestic Will seals, which Zallayl’s power had bestowed upon him and every Tesha being within Salem Kingdom’s Demon Domination. Unless it wasn’t a memory and just a dream. Yet, he saw the same thing when he was awake. He woke with a start and glanced out his bedroom to see the morning had passed to be midday.

“Is it because of seeing that seal on the forehead?” he whispered is question aloud then shook his head. It wasn’t possible to remember that far back. Unless forbidden magic had been cast to break a bit of the memory seal.

The thought made him gasp and feel more awake. He shuffled to sit up and saw he was still dressed in his rogue armor. 777 must have carried him home and just dumped him on his bed. That was fine, but he sniffed his arm and screwed up his face at the pungent odor wafting from his body.

He wasted no time to clean up to look and smell decent in his business casual gear of gray slacks over polished burnt red shoes, with a white shirt beneath a simple bottle-green waistcoat that held a light sheen. He donned a single breast dark gray jacketed and threw his dark overcoat over him. And made sure his hair was the right level of stylish slicked back in the dresser mirror.

There were questions he needed answers, and the voice of that flute player had started to nag his mind. Despite the woman’s attempts to disguise her voice with the flute music and senses distortion, he seemed to recognize it. But where?

“I need to figure all this out.”

He left the headquarters, making his own way into the main village streets and roads using the mechanical wings 789 had given him. After some time flying, feeling the crisp lunchtime breeze on his face, he landed in a discreet area near a pottery store and walked the cobblestone streets.

He stood on a street corner for a while, watching people pass him by as he gathered his thoughts to try and understand the recent change of events: from sleeping with a young antiquities lord whose brother was murdered. But his company had only initially been called to fix a protection formation. Now they were working like sleuths with the Royal Guard. Not uncommon for his role in a scouting capacity, but there was a fine line with solving cases and scouting out enemy fortifications. How much ramification would their Grand Demon Overlord absorb from the Majestic Peace Order for them? He doubted it would be much, so they had to be careful.

“But my memory leak.” He sighed. Could he even call it that? Yet, that vision of his childhood self was too vivid to be a random fantasy. But if kept remembering it could draw the High Magistrate Deities attention upon him. The last thing he needed was to be on their radar.

“Careful. 669. Stick to your role.”

A fast moving shadow caught his eye. Drawing him out of his self reflection. It moved like a blur behind market stands. The magic was high level and if he wasn’t naturally attuned to virya disruptions, he likely wouldn’t have seen it.

He moved out to do his best to stealthily approach the shadow, and began a chase for it across the village. Running through narrow stone lanes, across the market district’s arched bridge to enter the west end of the area where the commercial stands began to thin out and make way for manufacturing and residential buildings. Every time he thought he caught up to the shadowy figure, it eluded his steps to be meters a head of him. It became obvious to him that he was being led along.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Fine. Let’s see what you want to show me.”

He sprinted along a dirt road where the buildings were modest storefronts for factories and tea shops, and stopped before a tailor shop. He glanced at the shop sign where it held a lotus symbol after the name and recalled the shop he had followed Bosgar into.

“Solace Tailors,” he said aloud and strolled into the shop.

“I’ll be one moment.” A woman called out from the back of the shop.

669 glanced about the suits, robes and dresses hanging on ranks or neatly folded on pigeonhole shelves. His eye caught a small silver lotus stitched to one of the robe's sleeve.

“Can I help you? We have all manner of garments to suit your needs.”

He flashed the woman a smile and stared at her for a short moment in silence; regarding her response. When it was clear that she wouldn’t make a move unless he did, he pointed to one of the black suits where he saw a silver lotus stitched near the cuff.

“May I?”

“Of course?” The shopkeeper said in her cordial business voice, but there was a waver to her tones.

669 sensed that she was being tense about something. He felt the fabric whilst secretly activating his Vast Eye ability at a low cost to his magic, as he was still recovering from his casting the night before. What he saw was enough to confirm the texture origins of the material.

“This material has a slight rough texture. I sense virya from the cloth,” he said as he felt around the lotus symbol in front of the woman.

The woman looked a bit perplex, but eased her expression into a business-friendly smile. “Of course, all garments are from material laced with protection magic.”

He nodded and examined a cotton shirt that had the small lotus emblem sewn to the collar. “Is the lotus your business symbol?”

“Indeed, it’s the symbol of our patron who funds this store. For which I’m grateful, for it makes it possible to bring garments to those who need them and willing to pay a price.”

“And the price range?”

“It depends on the need and the will to wear it.”

“Will? Interesting.”

As she was about to draw his attention to another suit, a noisy commotion in the backroom interrupted their conversation.

“Please excuse me.” She apologized as she stepped behind the counter and through the staff door, leaving him to his own devices in the shop.

669 left the shop and walked around the back, leaping over the fence to enter the shop's back. He was attacked by another woman who wore a mask to cover one side of her face, and arms were bandaged but oozing blood patches. This woman was wearing men’s pants tucked into boots, armor tunic of soft leather with a pair of daggers that she wielded before him. But her movements were clumsy and weak, so he was able to overpower her and pin her, face down, to the floor.

“Wait, I’ve seen you before?” He said when he got a good look at her face. His mind recapped on possible hits and recalled the image capture of Marcus arguing with a woman. “Fairy Blossom.”

“Get off me, you disgusting excuse for a human being.” She spat out.

“Not until you give me answers.” He pressed his knee on her back to keep her pinned down.

“Get off her!” The shopkeeper shouted and whacked 669 to the back off the head with a club, hard. So hard it knocked him out cold.

“Thanks Lucy.” Fairy Blossom dusted herself off as she rose and stood next to Lucy.

The women stared down at 669, who was lying unconscious at their feet.