Asking him for a light?
Lance sized up the middle-aged man in front of him, dressed in a black tailcoat, sporting a slicked-back hairdo gleaming with oil. The look in his eyes carried a whiff of a smile, imperceptible yet present, mixed with a tinge of curiosity. His aura... somewhat mixed.
Not a man from Saint Blue City, perhaps not even human at all, his eyes... gave Lance a feeling of déjà vu.
With a snap of his fingers, a flame flickered at the tip of Lance's index finger, "Have we... met somewhere before?"
"How curious, I have the same feeling, as if we've known each other for a thousand years."
The middle-aged man in the black suit glanced at the flame on Lance's fingertip and chuckled, "A personage like Lord Viscount doesn't carry even a box of matches?"
Lance stared into the man's eyes, the phrase echoing in his mind: [As if we've known each other for a thousand years].
A thousand years ago...