Regarding what Calyra had asked him about forgetting something, there was indeed one thing that Evrard himself could no longer remember.
It was not something he had only noticed recently, either. He had become aware of it long ago, though even calling it a memory felt somewhat inaccurate.
After all, how could he be certain that he had forgotten something when he could not even remember what that something was?
And yet, there were moments when he knew.
Sometimes, someone close to him would say something seemingly ordinary, or act in a way that should have carried no particular significance, only for something buried deep within his mind to suddenly stir.
The sensation never lasted long.
For a fleeting moment, Evrard would feel as though he had brushed against the edge of a memory — something important, something familiar, something that should never have been forgotten in the first place.
