Azriel blinked, finding himself standing before a place he knew all too well.
"My old home... Guess I didn't even have to search for it."
A sad look crossed his face as memories stirred—a lifetime ago, in this familiar view, was perhaps the only place that truly held his past.
Slowly, Azriel walked to the door and stepped inside his old apartment.
"It all still looks the same."
Not a single thing had changed.
He wandered through the rooms, his fingers tracing the counter as nostalgia washed over him.
"I wonder what happened to all of this after I died..."
Was the apartment sold? Did someone else move in?
But the answers eluded him—and any thought of finding them vanished when he froze, wide-eyed, spotting someone on the couch.
There, calmly sipping tea and watching him, sat a familiar figure.
Blood-red eyes locked on Azriel, their unsettling calm making his skin prickle.
"You...!"