When Haziel walked along the bustling streets of the capital, she felt something different. Not in a bad way, but undeniably altered. The sensation was subtle, like a faint vibration under her skin that tingled with every step she took. Actually, on second thought, I feel quite good.

Her eyes wandered over the scene around her, absorbing the details with a sharp clarity. Shopkeepers stood outside their storefronts, calling out to passersby with practiced ease while families strolled together, parents holding the hands of excited children who tugged them eagerly towards the next distraction.

An elderly couple sat on a bench with their hands intertwined. And street vendors hawked their wares, their colorful carts brimming with exotic fruits, trinkets, and handmade crafts. How long has it been since I had a good walk by myself like this? I'll enjoy myself while I can.

Amidst the lively scene, a ball rolled to a stop at Haziel’s feet, its surface scuffed and worn from countless games. She looked down, the unexpected interruption pulling her from her thoughts. A group of children ran towards her, flushed with excitement and a hint of apprehension.

One of the boys, who had his hair tousled and eyes wide, called out to her. "S-sorry, miss, can you pass the ball back, please?"

Haziel’s lips curved into a genuine smile, a rare softness touching her usually stern features. She bent down, her fingers brushing the rough surface of the ball to straighten it, Then, she kicked it gently back towards the children, the ball arcing through the air before landing precisely at their feet.

"Here you go, just stay safe next time, okay?"

"Okay!"

The children’s faces lit up with gratitude and delight. They waved at her as they resumed their game, the sound of their laughter echoing through the street.

Haziel then continued her walk, until she spotted the display window of a quaint bakery. The glass was filled with an array of golden-brown loaves, each one perfectly shaped and radiating a tantalizing aroma that made her mouth water. She knew she didn't actually need to eat, but the bread looked so good that she wanted it anyway.

She pushed open the bakery door, the little bell above tinkling softly, and was greeted by the warm, comforting smell of freshly baked goods. Her eyes darted around the shop, taking in the neatly arranged shelves and the bustling activity behind the counter. She made her way to the display case, where an assortment of pastries and bread beckoned to her. She picked out a few items: a crusty baguette, a soft roll, and a sweet pastry, then placed them carefully onto a tray.

Haziel set the tray on the counter and waited. And before long, a middle-aged man soon approached, wiping his flour-dusted hands on his apron. He had a kind face, with laugh lines etched around his eyes and a welcoming smile. "Good afternoon, anything else I can get for you today?"

Haziel shook her head politely. "No, thank you. This will be all."

"Great! All of that will be three silver coins please."

"No problem, just let me—"

Haziel reached for her coin pouch, but her hand found only empty air. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as she realized that her coin pouch was likely lost during her fight with Dante. She sighed and looked up at the baker with an apologetic expression..

"I'm sorry, but it seems that I've lost my coin pouch. I'll have to return these."

The baker's eyes softened. "Lost it, did you? That’s unfortunate." He paused, considering something. "This is a bit sudden, but can you bake?"

Haziel blinked in surprise. "I can, but I'm not very good at it."

The baker's face lit up with a relieved smile. "That's fine. I only need someone to help me out for the rest of the day. My usual assistant didn't come to his shift, and I'm struggling to finish some big orders."

He gestured to the trays of half-prepared dough behind him. "If you help me, you can have the bread you chose now, and later tonight, you can take your pick of some more bread and any leftovers."

Haziel considered his offer. She tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing next. I was definitely on a mission to do… something.

But her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the smell of something burning. Haziel’s nose twitched, the sharp odor cutting through her musings. The baker, standing nearby, let out a startled exclamation and rushed to the oven.

Soon, he pulled out a tray of charred loaves, the once golden crusts now blackened and smoking. The baker's shoulders visibly slumped as he saw the now useless products.

Without a moment's hesitation, Haziel stepped forward. "I'll help you,"

The baker sighed in relief. "Thank yo so much," he said, extending his flour-dusted hand. "I'm Charles, by the way. And you are?"

Haziel took his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Haziel."

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"Well, Haziel, let's get to work. We’ve got a lot to do."

They both set to work immediately. Haziel quickly adapted to the rhythm of the bakery as Charles provided quick instructions, demonstrating how to knead dough with just the right amount of pressure, shape loaves into perfect rounds, and monitor the oven's heat to avoid further disasters.

Despite her initial hesitation, Haziel discovered she had a knack for baking. Her hands moved with precision, each action measured and efficient. The chaotic kitchen transformed under their combined efforts into a well-oiled machine, the mess of flour and dough gradually becoming organized and productive.

Throughout the day, they worked side by side. The bell above the door chimed softly with each customer’s arrival. Haziel found herself enjoying the interactions, even taking the time to chat with every person who visited the bakery.

She helped package orders, wrapping loaves in brown paper and tying them with twine. The texture of the paper was rough yet satisfying, the twine firm under her fingers. Carriages frequently pulled up in front of the bakery, and Haziel carried baskets of freshly baked goods out to the drivers, handing them over with a nod and a brief word of thanks.

As the day drew to a close, they began cleaning up the shop. Haziel swept the floors while Charles wiped down the counters and stored the remaining ingredients. The bakery grew quiet, the hustle and bustle of the day replaced by a peaceful calm.

Charles looked at Haziel, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you for everything today, Haziel. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

Haziel returned his smile. "It was my pleasure. I enjoyed myself."

Charles glanced at a basket filled with fresh bread. "I’ve got one last delivery to make. Would you like to come with me? The lady we're delivering to always treats us with some nice tea."

Haziel shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "I’ve been helping you all day anyway. I don’t mind finishing this last delivery."

Charles grinned. "Great! Let’s go."

They left the bakery, the evening air cool against their faces as they walked through the now quieter streets. The city had begun to wind down, the hustle and bustle fading as the lanterns cast a warm, inviting glow along the cobblestone pathways.

Charles led the way to a quaint shop with a beautifully painted sign that read "Frieda’s Florals." The sign was adorned with intricate floral designs, the colors vibrant even in the dim light.

He stopped in front of the shop and knocked on the door, the sound echoing softly in the evening stillness. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a woman with a warm smile and a cascade of gray curls framing her kind face. Her eyes sparkled with a welcoming twinkle.

"Charles! And you’ve brought a friend," she greeted.

"This is Haziel," Charles said. "She helped me out at the bakery today."

Frieda's smile broadened as she extended her hand to Haziel. "It’s lovely to meet you, Haziel. I’m Frieda. Thank you both for the bread. It's always a pleasure to see Charles, but it’s even better with delicious treats."

Haziel shook Frieda’s hand, noting the gentle strength in her grip.. "Thank you, Frieda. Your shop is beautiful," she said, her eyes wandering around the charming interior. The shop was a riot of colors and fragrances, with flowers of every kind arranged in artful displays. Delicate petals and lush greenery filled the space, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. "But I didn’t think a flower shop would also sell tea."

Frieda chuckled. "Oh, I don’t sell tea. I just enjoy making it for certain guests. It adds a personal touch to the experience."

Charles grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "And her tea is the best in the city. I come here often just for that!"

Frieda couldn't help but let out a slight laugh. "Now, you two sit down while I prepare the tea," she instructed as she guided them to a cozy seating area between several vibrant floral arrangements.

Haziel and Charles settled into the comfortable chairs, their soft cushions enveloping them in a welcoming embrace. As Frieda bustled off to the back, Charles turned to Haziel, his expression curious and intent. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. Where are you from?"

Haziel hesitated, her thoughts swirling like the steam rising from a forgotten cup of tea. She felt a strange emptiness, a void where her memories should have been. "I... I don’t really remember."

A slight frown creased her brow as she tried to grasp at the elusive fragments of her past. "I think I forgot."

"That’s unusual. Are you sure you’re alright?"

"I think so. My mind just feels a bit foggy right now."

Yet, before Charles could ask more, Frieda returned with a tray bearing a teapot and delicate cups. The porcelain clinked softly as she set it down, and the fragrant steam rose in delicate curls, filling the air with a soothing aroma. "Here we go," she said, handing them each a cup.

Charles accepted his cup with a grateful smile. "Haziel here is having some issues remembering things."

Frieda’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she poured the tea, the liquid a rich amber color. "Oh, I’m forgetful too. It must be an age thing. But don’t worry, my special tea works wonders."

Haziel lifted her cup, the porcelain warm against her fingers. She sipped the tea, the rich, soothing flavor spreading through her, easing the tension in her mind. This is nice.

Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the creak of the store doors opening. All three turned to see an inquisitorial acolyte enter, flanked by two knights in pitch-black armor. The knights' presence was imposing, their faces hidden behind dark visors.

Frieda's face paled, her earlier warmth replaced by worry. "Is there an issue?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The acolyte's gaze zeroed in on Haziel. "Inquisitor Haziel, you are to come back to headquarters immediately," he commanded, pointing directly at her.

Charles quickly stepped in front of Haziel. "There must be some misunderstanding. She’s done nothing wrong."

"This matter does not concern civilians, but should you interfere, there will be consequences."

"Please, I've been a proud citizen of this country for decades, I will not be—"

Haziel gently tapped Charles on the shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, "I’ll go with them."

"Are… you sure?" Charles asked.

"Yes, everything will be fine."

Turning to Frieda and Charles, Haziel bowed her head slightly. "Thank you both for everything. I won’t forget your kindness, but this is farewell for now."

Frieda and Charles exchanged worried glances but nodded, their concern evident. "Good luck, Haziel," Frieda said.

"Stay safe," Charles added, stepping back reluctantly.

Haziel walked towards the acolyte and the knights, her steps measured and deliberate. She held her head high, exuding a quiet strength and determination. As she left the shop, she steeled herself, ready to face whatever awaited her.