Dreamweaver.

As Seyla wandered through the busy heart of the city, he paused in front of a solid stone building with polished black iron around its tall glass windows. A simple wooden sign hung above the entrance, displaying the words in large, blocky letters: L'Oreal City Bank.

He murmured to himself, "What if I open a bank account for safety? Yes, that seems like the best option."

The L'Oreal City Bank rose two stories, its walls made of smooth, grey bricks that showed just enough age. The building stood along the main street of the Centre Area, a place bustling with the constant movement of carriages, street vendors, and nobles running errands. A short set of stone steps led to the entrance, where two sturdy wooden doors stood. Their dark varnish was slightly worn, polished by the hands of countless clients over the years.

Seyla climbed the steps and entered.

Inside, the bank had a calm and orderly feel. The cream-colored stone tiles gleamed under the afternoon sun flooding through the windows. Wooden counters with brass railings lined the right wall, where clerks in matching grey vests and white shirts were busy counting coins, recording entries, and assisting clients.

Simple wooden benches filled the waiting area. To the left, a cork bulletin board was covered with neatly pinned papers, exchange rates, security alerts, local theft warnings, and flyers about missing or stolen items. A ticking clock hung on the far wall, its presence subtle but steady. There was no excessive décor or vanity. Just clean, reliable function.

Seyla approached the counter where a middle-aged lady stood. She looked neat, her hair tied in a bun, with spectacles resting on her nose.

She smiled as he stepped forward. "How can I help you, mister…?"

"Seyla Veyl. I'd like to open a bank account, please," he replied politely, offering a warm smile.

The lady raised an eyebrow, writing down his name. "From the Veyl household?"

Seyla's brows furrowed slightly. That name again…

"Yes, I would like a personal account, please. By the way, do you know much about the Veyl household?"

"Alright, one personal account for Seyla Veyl," she said, starting to fill out some paperwork behind the desk. She continued while working, her tone smooth and practiced.

"Of course I know. The Veyl household is one of the most influential families on the eastern continent. They've been around for over five centuries—one of the oldest bloodlines still active. They own and manage around 80 percent of the banking industry across the continent. They're a trusted name in finance."

Seyla blinked, pretending to be impressed, but inside he was already running through dozens of questions. So, I really come from one of those families… then why don't I remember any of this?

The woman smiled brightly. "Their main house is located in the capital of the Dove Kingdom. You asked because you wanted to test me, right? Did I do well?"

Seyla chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, yes, haha… You did great. Anyway, don't you need some kind of identification or verification to create an account?"

The clerk looked at him, amused. "There's no need. The Veyl family has a very specific appearance—blond hair and green eyes. It's rare. Not only that, this branch is owned by the Veyl family. If a member needs to open an account, they can simply register at any of our banks."

She leaned in slightly, her voice softening. "And the Veyl family isn't just nobility. They're often treated like royalty. Their wealth rivals even the Caelwyn and Dove royal families."

Seyla absorbed her words in silence.

The woman then handed him a form. "Just fill this out, and we'll take care of the rest."

Seyla took a seat on a nearby bench and began writing. The form asked for simple information—name, age, place of residence, chosen account type, and emergency contact. As he filled it in, he hesitated on several questions.

Place of birth… Unknown. Residence… Near River Saan, east side.

He answered them as best as he could, and once finished, returned the paper to the counter.

"I'd like to make a deposit as well," he said, pulling out the crisp 50 Crown note Rafaela had given him earlier.

The clerk took both the form and the money. "One 50 Crown note… Understood."

She processed the transaction with careful movements, stamping the form and signing it. After a few minutes, she reached into a small drawer and retrieved a gold card with a sleek, simple design.

Handing it to Seyla, she said, "You're all set, Mr. Veyl. This is your access card. It's valid at all Veyl-affiliated banks across the continent. Thank you for choosing us."

Seyla accepted the card, inspecting it with curiosity. It felt oddly light yet sturdy—engraved with his name and account number. It shimmered faintly under the light, featuring a delicate sigil in the center: a feather and scale crossed beneath a crown.

He gave the woman a polite nod. "Thank you."

As he turned to leave, the sound of the ticking clock echoed behind him. He stepped back out into the busy streets of the Centre Area, the sun now lower in the sky.

The wind was mild, and the crowds bustled past as usual. Seyla walked slowly, looking down at the card in his hand.

"So I really am from the Veyl family…" he murmured to himself. "Why can't I remember? And if I'm this important… why was I living like a nobody?"

He tucked the card carefully into his inner coat pocket.

"Well, no point lingering. Let's head to the market."

With that, Seyla turned and began walking toward the western road, where stalls and merchant shops awaited.