******

My mind went blank; I couldn't even form a simple sentence. Reacting accordingly to the situation, Josef guided me to sit on a stool. I saw my own hands starting to tremble, and I scrunched them against my dress. Meanwhile, Josef pumped steaming liquid out of a strange-looking contraption on his table. When he handed the cup to me, I didn't bother to question its contents, sipping gratefully from it.

Once I was sure that my nerves had cooled down sufficiently, I put the cup on the table and smoothened out my rumpled skirts. "What made you come to such a conclusion?" Despite the water, my voice was still cracked.

He looked out of his window, into the distance. "You're from Hamelin, no?" He laced his fingers behind his back. Perhaps he was as much in shock as I was. "Someone must had crafted that flute for you before the plague came, and it must had triggered something inside my mind. Something that was powerful enough to fight against a memory alternation."

"You truly had no memory of what your early life was like?" I pursued, although I already knew the answer.

"No." He turned his gaze upon me. His eyes were dark and broken—a look I had seen in many other citizens of Hamelin. That look was a familiar friend of mine; I saw it in the mirror oftentimes myself. "Tell me, do you remember your life before the plague?"

For a moment, I considered telling him 'yes'. Avoid the truth for a little while longer. But I wanted answers—needed them. This was the first chance I had in ten years. I wouldn't let it go so easily.

"No," I replied frankly. "Or I do, but they're foggy at best, and every time I try to...remember"—for lack of a better word—"I just can't."

Josef nodded thoughtfully, looking into the distance once more. "Yes, your experience sounds similar to mine. It's odd, isn't it? I was young, of course. However, there should have been at least a few significant memories that would stick in my head."

"Couldn't those memories be a little foggy too?"

"Impossible. I've studied and pored through every single book in the library which touched upon the subject of memories," he said. "Most childhood memories wouldn't be very clear cut, but there should be some that you can replay over and over in your head. Even if you live to be centuries old."

I considered his words. Then I took out my flute, skimming over the new engravings and grooves carved into it. I felt its power singing back to me through my fingers, tempting me to play something. "Why did my flute bring back your memories?"

"I must have a significant memory in connection to your flute." He jerked his chin towards my Medium. "And still I can't remember everything. I only recall snatched conversations, a few flashing images. They're clearer than before, but they're not telling me everything that I want to know."

"What do you remember?" I asked curiously.

His cheeks pinked ever so slightly. "Er—none of your business," he answered in a curt tone.

I raised my brows, but I didn't press him any further. It was already improper enough of me to ask Josef to share such sacred thoughts. So I changed the subject: "Why can't I remember anything then? I've had this flute for my whole life, yet it certainly didn't help my memory."

"Most likely the same person who'd altered our minds had erased any triggers in your mind concerning that flute of yours," he theorised. "Besides, you've had it for so long now, you've made plenty of new memories with it, thus blocking you from your early life."

Images surged through my mind: Papa Gunter jokingly whacking me with the flute when I was being mischievous; the townspeople who jeered at me and threatening to turn me over to the Mayor for harbouring an instrument if Papa Gunter refused to pay extra protection money; me curling up on the bed, tear stains on my face kissing the comforting wood, the night after the Mayor had used his riding crop on my back.

"Milady?" Josef's voice swam through the surface of my thoughts. I jerked myself back into the present, looking up to see his lips pursed in worry.

"How did you obtain my flute in the first place?" I continued to stroke my Medium, carefully keeping my attention away from his face. His familiar demenour, as a whole. "Elise said that she had seen to it that all my belongings from Hamelin were discarded."

"Elise?" Something in his tone made my eyes snap up. "She was the one who had brought the flute to me. Said that she thought it would be better for me to fashion a Medium out of an instrument you already had. That was why I thought it better to ask her to bring you to me. Elise has a strange liking to me, after all." He shook his head in confusion. "This doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't," I agreed slowly. I tried to piece whatever information we had, struggling to make a pattern out of it. So Josef's clear memories started around the same time as mine did: ten years ago. My flute was somehow tangled up in his past, and Elise had been the one to present it to him.

I gritted my teeth. Nothing made sense at all.

It seemed like Josef was doing quite bit of thinking himself. However, unlike me, he had a new gleam in his eyes. He found a new trail to go upon. "The plague. It must have everything to do with it!" he exclaimed happily.

I stared at him, waiting for a proper explanation. He only grinned at me. "Well?" I said.

"Don't you understand?" he retorted, exasperated.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a musician, not a thinker." I looked down at my lap, where my flute sat upon. Josef was an inventor, a creator of useful items. While I just...entertained.

"You can try though. Intelligence is something you work on, not something you're born with," he said, as though he had just read my thoughts. "So think about it: won't the plague have anything to do with our forgotten memories?"

I decided to take his advice and think. Slowly, the idea crept into my head, like it had been sitting dormant there for a long while, just waiting for me to dig it out. "The plague...Why were our memories altered? Was it really necessary? The Pied Piper already took away our magic and the children. What more harm could he do?"

"Unless he had something to hide," we both said at the same time. Then we burst out laughing.

I realised with shock that it was the first time I'd laughed ever since I'd left Papa Gunter. The two months in the Mayor's estate were pure misery. My life here in Heidelburg was better, but there had never a cause for me to express my joy save through smiling. My laughter died down as this realisation washed over me, and so did Josef's.

I almost forgotten how much I missed the feeling.

"Anyway"—Josef cleared his throat—"the Pied Piper must have something to do with this rigmarole. I don't know if it only applies to those who used to be in Hamelin, but I'm sure that I can find out soon enough. And-"

"Hold on," I interrupted as something struck me. "If you're around the same age as I am, and you're from Hamelin..."

Our eyes widened in perfect synchronisation. "I am one of the children he led away," he said, just when I concluded, "You are one of the children he led away."

We allowed ourselves a small smile, but we didn't laugh this time. "Then that means..."

"The Pied Piper is within Heidelburg," he finished off my sentence.

******