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Caroline presented her stir-fry, the vibrant vegetables glistening under the light, perfectly seasoned, and tossed to perfection.

Noah’s pancakes, golden brown and stacked tall, were accompanied by a light syrup glaze, and topped with grated cheese.

Emily grabbed her fork, taking a bite of Caroline’s stir-fry first. She chewed thoughtfully, her eyes lighting up as the flavours hit her tongue.

She nodded, clearly pleased. Then, she moved on to Noah’s pancakes, slicing into the fluffy stack and taking a bite. Her expression shifted slightly—surprise mixed with delight.

She sat back, considering the two dishes, and let out a thoughtful hum. The tension in the room grew as both Noah and Caroline waited for her judgment.

Finally, Emily smiled brightly. "They’re both amazing! I can’t choose!" she declared, throwing her arms up.

David let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Well, looks like you both won, then."

Caroline, still feeling a sense of pride, glanced at Noah again smiling warmly.

"Not bad, Noah. You surprised me."

Noah grinned but remained silent.

David clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough of that. Let’s eat!"

After finishing their meal and sharing some laughs, it was time for Noah and David to head out for their teahouse negotiations.

As Noah stood up and straightened his suit, he smiled at his mom.

"See you later, Mom," Noah said.

David leaned in, kissing Caroline’s cheek. "We’ll be back soon. Don’t worry."

Caroline waved them off with a smile. "Make sure you two come back safely, alright?"

Just as Noah and David started toward the door, Emily’s voice broke in from behind them. "I want to go, too! Brother, please take me with you guys!"

Noah turned around, a small smile forming on his lips as he glanced at David, raising an eyebrow.

David sighed, already seeing where this was headed. "Emily, we’re just going to look at some shops and negotiate. It’s going to be boring for you. We’re not doing anything fun."

Emily puffed her cheeks, clearly undeterred. "I don’t care. I still want to go."

David looked to Noah again, who gave a slight nod.

"Alright, alright," David finally conceded. "Let’s go together then."

Emily giggled, quickly slipping on her shoes and grabbing Noah’s hand, her excitement infectious as they left the house.

Noah ordered an Uber to the city centre.

All of the potential shops for their teahouse were located within a few blocks of each other.

They soon jumped into the Uber, Emily nestled between them, practically bouncing in her seat the entire ride.

The city centre was busy as usual, stepping out of the car Noah held Emily’s hand as she jumped down.

Glancing at the tall buildings and the busy streets as they made their way to the first appointment. Emily’s eyes darted around, clearly fascinated by the crowds, the shops, and the energy of the city.

Their first stop was a small building nestled between two larger, more modern structures.

The brick exterior and slightly faded sign gave it a quaint, old-world charm. The door creaked as they pushed it open, revealing a cosy, but somewhat dusty, interior.

Inside, an older man stood behind the counter, waiting for them with a friendly smile. His greying hair and wrinkled hands suggested years of experience, but there was something tired about the way he moved.

"Ah, David!" the man greeted, stepping forward to shake hands. "Good to see you. And this is your son?"

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David nodded, gesturing toward Noah. "Yes, this is Noah," he said and then pointed to Emily, who was still holding tightly to Noah’s hand. "And this is my youngest, Emily."

Patrick smiled warmly, bending down slightly to greet Emily. "Hello there, Emily. Nice to meet you."

Noah stepped forward, offering his hand. "Good to meet you, Patrick."

As Patrick reached out to shake Noah’s hand, something shifted.

The moment their hands touched, Noah activated "Memory Glance," and instantly, images flashed before his eyes.

They came quickly, rippling through his mind like a film reel on fast-forward.

Suddenly, Noah found himself standing in the same building, but it wasn’t as clean as it looked now.

It was dark, and damp, and the air smelled musty—like mould that had long been ignored. Faint scratching sounds echoed from beneath the floorboards as if something was scurrying below.

Noah’s gaze shifted to the kitchen area. In the corner, near a gap in the wall, rats—small, grey, and twitching—darted out from their hiding spots, their tiny feet scratching against the wooden floors.

Patrick, looking depressed at the memory, stood over a sink, wiping his brow as he stared at the problem with frustration.

The image shifted, and now Patrick was pacing the kitchen, hands running through his greying hair, the smell of decay growing stronger as he glanced around in frustration.

He tried to plug the holes, tried to clean up the mess, but the rats returned. He called exterminators, but the problem persisted—unseen but existing, always just beneath the surface.

Each time he thought he had fixed it, the issue would resurface, and each time it returned worse than before.

The smell, the infestation—it wouldn’t go away.

The memory shifted again. Patrick, older now, stood at the same counter where he greeted them today, but his expression was tired, his eyes hollow. He handed over the keys to a young couple.

Noah recognized the look on Patrick’s face—the guilt of handing off a problem he couldn’t solve. He was desperate, trying to rent out the place long-term, passing the issue to different tenants, hoping it wouldn’t be his problem anymore.

Every year, new tenants came in. Every year, they left, each one complaining of the same problem—rats, foul smells, rotting beneath the surface.

Noah’s grip on Patrick’s hand tightened slightly as the memory ended, his gaze sharp as he locked eyes with the old man.