Burt stumbled out of the alleyway and onto the main street.
His mind was racing, a chaotic storm of memories that weren't his own.
Ancient medical texts, martial arts stances, and recipes for elixirs swirled in his head, clashing with the reality of the wet pavement under his feet.
Nine Divine Needles. The Breath of the Dragon. The Meridian Cleansing Technique.
It was too much. He needed to go home.
He took a step, intending to hail a cab, before stopping.
Home?
He didn't have a home. For four years, he had lived in the servant's quarters of the Gold estate.
His clothes were there. His toothbrush. His mother's old photo albums.
Elizabeth had kicked him out with nothing but the clothes on his back and he didn't even have any money to board a taxi with.
"Right," Burt muttered, his voice sounding deeper, steadier than before. "No home. Just me."
