Edwin Davis, no matter how kind or eager he was to offer me help, was still a man who believed in what was logical and reasonable. My claims of seeing the memories of a dead man were anything but.

Before I could make an even greater fool of myself, I tried to take my words back and brush them off. “I apologise, forget what I just said––”

“No, wait,” he cut me off with a stern yet hesitant expression. "Are you certain that's what you saw?"

"I am."

I couldn't tell if he was taking my claims seriously or just trying to verify whether I'd lost my mind or not.

“And has this sort of thing happened before?"

"No, it's the first time."

While I certainly didn’t go about touching corpses as a hobby, it was inevitable during a war. But regardless of those instances, I’d never experienced anything like that.

"It's strange that it started for no reason then," he mused aloud, rubbing his chin in contemplation, "Do you think it's just limited to corpses?"

“Pardon?”

He suddenly extended his hand out towards me with an expectant look, which made me narrow my eyes.

"Well, let's test out that theory then."

He couldn’t be serious, surely?

But that look on his face suggested otherwise. I eyed him with a weary scepticism for a long moment before reluctantly bringing my fingers towards his outstretched hand, and there was another moment of hesitation before I finally touched it.

There was silence as we both waited for anything at all to happen.

“Anything?”

“No.”

He let out a heavy sigh, though I was unsure if it was out of relief or disappointment. “I guess I should be happy you didn’t see anything then," he said before retracting his hand and crossing his arms together as he returned to contemplation. “I’d dismissed the whole regeneration thing as something that might’ve been explainable by science, but seeing someone’s memories like this is outright fantasy.”

I knew it.

Of course, he didn’t believe me. No one would. I clearly had too much faith in his trust in me. Well, that was what I thought until he spoke again:

“But, I know you’re not the type to lie about this sort of thing.”

My eyes snapped back up to him, widening slightly. Did he actually believe me? I wouldn't blame him if he didn't. He had every reason not to considering that this was essentially defying the limits of reality. But, for whatever foolish justification he made in his mind, he was willing to trust my words without any real evidence.

“Director, if those were his memories, then this confirms that body does belong to Mrs Wright’s son.”

Davis sighed again, scratching the back of his neck. “While that may be true, I don’t think that fact could change her mind at this point.”

“Why not?”

“Because if someone desperately wanted to believe in something, no amount of evidence is going to change their mind that easily.”

“So there is nothing we can do?”

“All we can do is wait as that woman grieves.”

“I see...”

I was unsure why there was a tinge of disappointment in my chest over an affair that had little to concern me. But this matter proved more complicated than I initially assumed. And even if the situation couldn’t be resolved, there was still something that irked me with the vividness and feelings I experienced in those memories.

It was far too similar to the dreams I’d been having of late. Uncomfortably so. I could only assume that seeing the memories of Anthony Wright and my reoccurring dreams of a certain man wasn’t a coincidence and that it had to be linked.

But that was something I'd need to confirm for myself. I had to know for certain if those memories really did hold any truth to them and if I was really able to see the memories of a dead man or simply going mad.

To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure which option was worst.

“Director, can I ask for a favour?”

Davis practically did a mental double-take at my words. I hadn’t asked any from him yet despite his insistence that I could make any request from him, so he was essentially beaming with excitement now.

“Of course, anything at all!"

“Would you let me take the day off?”

—

Davis was overly delighted, almost uncomfortably so, to let me have the rest of the day off, especially after my fainting episode. However, he quickly grew disappointed when I told him that I intended to go out into the city instead of staying in bed. But fortunately, he didn't question why and only asked that I didn't return too late.

When I made it further into the central business district in the city, I realised just how lively the streets were during the day. It was as if a constant stream of people walked by at any one time. The traffic was even louder due to the constant noise of roaring engines. And with the dozens of passersby walking past me, I was conscious not to bump into anyone this time.

There was only one destination I had in mind. I searched around every building and defining landmark within view for something I might recognise from that man's memories, but I struggled to see any.

Those memories came in flashes. They didn't detail his entire life and featured a few notable moments which did little to assist my search. But, I continued anyway, skimming over the heads of everyone rushing by.

“Sulking again, are we?”

A familiar voice reached my ears that made me turn around, which I immediately regretted when I met the eyes of a certain blonde-haired annoyance.

Fantastic.

With one glance up and down his body, I could tell his hair and attire were just as well kept as the previous night. He wore that suit like a good soldier would wear their uniform: immaculate and to perfection. His faint smile plastered on his face was just as polite but more restrained than the one he wore yesterday.

Either way, he was the last person I expected to see.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a habit of yours to talk to strangers on the street,” I reminded him. My eyes drifted towards the moving crowd, and I wondered if I'd be able to lose him if I ran into it.

At the very least, he hopefully wouldn’t recognise me now that we were both standing in broad daylight. And besides, even if he didn’t, there was no need to maintain conversations or pleasantries with him, unlike the staff at the funeral home.

“You offend me. I would say a woman I spent a couple of hours with last night wouldn’t be a complete stranger,” he argued, a playfulness seeping into his tone. “At least an acquaintance, I would say.”

“Is there something you wanted?” I asked him bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

“My apologies, I saw you in the crowd looking all lost and couldn’t help but approach.”

“So your intention was to offer help?”

“Well only if you asked, Otherwise, I just wanted a closer view of you struggling." I raised my eyebrow, but he chuckled at my deadpan stare. "I'm only jesting. But really, were you looking for something?"

“I don’t need your help.”

“Well I didn't need to offer my help either, and yet here I am.”

I gave him another look, only feeling more uninterested in indulging in this man for any longer than he forced me to. "I'm trying to find someone's residence."

"Might it be the lover who I theorised you quarrel with last night?" he questioned, but quickly cleared his throat after seeing my unamused glare. "My apologies, do you have their address?"

“No.”

He blinked a few times. “Well, that’s certainly going to make it more difficult.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was relying entirely on that man’s memory. It wasn’t the most efficient method, but it was what I had and I’d planned on doing a brute-force search across the city if I had to. Since the man in front of me clearly wasn’t going to be of any help, I ignored him and continued to look around.

“Do you know at least roughly where it is?” he asked, his eyes following mine but not seeming entirely sure what he was looking for.

“Vaguely,” I said, turning to face him again as I tried recalling the specific details of that memory. However, if those visions were just images conjured up by my mind, this whole pursuit would’ve been useless. “It should be down the street of a train station.”

“The train station?” he repeated, putting a finger to his chin. “That’s not too far from here. It’s only a few streets down that way."

He pointed behind me, towards one of the roads at an intersection. I glanced over my shoulder for a moment before turning back around and eyeing him sceptically.

“Are you sure?”

“Certainly, I’ve been there a number of times—”

“I see, thank you.”

Without lingering for a moment longer, I walked away from him and down in that direction.

“Hold on––”

Before he could say anything else, I’d already disappeared back into the crowd.

—

“She just left.”

The man was left feeling rather abandoned. His eyes lingered on the crowd for a few moments before he sighed and began to walk back to an automobile parked along the side of the road. As he entered the backseat, another man sat in the driver's seat and eyed him through the rear-view mirror.

“Mister Callisto, was there a reason you asked to stop?”

He shook his head, his expression becoming more stoic and reserved as he eased into his seat. “I apologise. I just got distracted momentarily.”

The man's gaze lingered on him, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Was that woman important?”

“No, not particularly. It just seemed like she needed some help.”

“I see. Would you like me to continue driving to the office then?”

“Yes, please do that.”