Dreamweaver.

A sense of familiarity had risen inside him.

Why do I sense something familiar about this place... Seyla muttered, sighing.

He held the door handle and opened it.

Inside Nathan's Bar: a table full of untouched wine and food, men filling the entire bar, and women flattering customers.

As soon as Seyla stepped in, all eyes turned toward him. Tall, pure-blond hair, dark green eyes, a flawless face with perfect brows and lashes, and lips tinged pink—Seyla Veyl stood as an embodiment of beauty and allure.

The men reacted with jealousy. Fear twisted in their stomachs; they worried every woman would abandon them for this newcomer.

The women reacted with an entirely different emotion—a fierce desire. Something primal and wild surfaced in their eyes.

Only the bartender remained unfazed.

Suddenly, everyone except the bartender froze. Their gazes remained fixed on the doorway. The atmosphere shifted; it felt like a room of corpses.

Seyla had activated "Flicker of Reverie," clouding their minds, freezing them for just a few seconds. With the moment bought, he used "Whisper Steps," moving silently to the bar counter.

The patrons resumed their actions without realizing they'd been briefly paralyzed. They continued chatting, eating, and drinking.

At the counter, Seyla said, "The famous alcohol, please."

The bartender nodded, walked to the back, gathered ingredients, and soon returned. After mixing for a moment, he slid a drink toward Seyla.

"Veyrum," he said. "Two silver marks."

Seyla handed over the coins and took a sip.

The Veyrum stung his tongue with a smoky bite, warming his chest. Underneath the burn were hints of honey, oak, and citrus, ending with a dry, peppery finish.

Eughh... people's tastes in this kingdom are weird, Seyla muttered inwardly. He glanced at the bartender and smirked. "You're immune to my magic. I'm guessing you're also Runebound."

The bartender stiffened slightly. "What is your purpose here?"

"Are you the owner?"

"Yes. Name's Ren Nathan Dove. You?"

"Seyla Veyl. I'm here on behalf of Loren Andersen."

"A new recruit, huh? What role did you take?"

"Sheriff," Seyla answered, sipping again.

"First sheriff of the east side, then. Your fame will come fast. This side of the city always has trouble finding things or people. They usually hire sheriffs from the north or south. Police can't do much."

Ren paused, wiping glasses. "You need equipment? Third floor, room eight. He's there."

Seyla nodded, finished his drink, and headed upstairs. At the end of a long hallway, he reached room 8.

As he stood in front of the door, a sudden dizziness overcame him. His vision blurred.

Something behind this door... it's deep... familiar.

He steadied himself, straightened his coat, and opened the door.

The room was modest, enough for private dealings. A plain wooden table sat at the center, surrounded by mismatched but sturdy chairs. A simple bed was in the corner. Equipment crates lined one wall, and thick curtains blocked the window. 

At the desk sat a figure in his mid-twenties, half-reclining over the table: Ace Andersen.

Seyla froze. His heart skipped.

Ace wore a dark brown coat, faded from years of use. A gray shirt, black trousers, scuffed boots, fingerless gloves. Around his neck hung a small silver ring on a chain.

His sharp black eyes stared at Seyla. A faint scar traced his chin. His voice was calm, but deep.

Seyla's thoughts reeled. Kurt?... What is he doing here?

"Uhh... you okay, mate?" Ace asked.

The scar on his face, his expression, his sound, the way he speaks, the way he talks, the way he looks at me,... It's all the same!, did he also transmigrate? Seyla talked to his mind while stunned after hearing his voice. After a few moments, he regained his composure, and he replied., "I-I'm fine".

Ace leaned forward, curious. "Loren said a new recruit might come. That you?"

"Y-yeah. I'm here to buy sheriff equipment," Seyla answered, still rattled.

"You look scared. Something wrong with my face?" Ace joked, checking the mirror.

"Do you... not remember me?" Seyla asked.

Ace raised a brow. "We literally just met.

Should I?"

He doesn't remember me... Seyla thought sadly. "Sorry, you look like someone I used to know. About that equipment."

Ace stood, grabbed a wooden box from the shelf, and opened it with a silver key. Inside: a rifle and bullets, a magnifying glass, utility knife, notebook, charcoal pencil, pocket watch, and scarf.

"All you need. Three crown notes or gold marks. Extra equipment costs more."

Seyla handed over the coins. "Can I also get a black suitcase?"

Ace ducked under the desk, pulled one out, and tossed it to Seyla. "Seven silver, five bronze."

Seyla paid, bowed slightly. "Thanks."

Ace smiled. "Glad to work with you."

Seyla left the room, said goodbye to Ren downstairs, and exited the bar.

He hailed a carriage and headed home.

---

Back in Room 8.

Two shadowed figures appeared behind Ace.

In unison, in a strange tongue, they said, "Do not tell him your true identity. We will help you forget... and protect them."

Ace's face twisted in pain and anger. "Understood."

The figures smiled. "It's for your world. And your family."

They vanished, leaving Ace alone by the window.

He sighed deeply. "For my world, my family... and you, Seyla."