Noah’s grip on Patrick’s hand tightened slightly as the memory ended, his gaze sharp as he locked eyes with the old man.
“So this is what you’re hiding,” Noah thought, his mind piecing it all together.
The building wasn’t just old—it had deeper problems, ones that Patrick had failed to fix time and time again.
Patrick, oblivious to Noah’s discovery, released his hand and gestured toward the room.
“Well, feel free to have a look around,” he said cheerfully. “It’s a charming little place, and with a bit of love, it could be the perfect teahouse.”
David glanced at Noah, his expression hopeful. “What do you think, son? It’s got character, doesn’t it?”
Noah smiled faintly, masking his thoughts. “It does,” he said, stepping forward and walking around the small space, noting every crack, every place where the problems were hidden.
Emily, still clinging to Noah’s side, looked up at him with innocent curiosity. “Is this going to be the teahouse, Noah?”
Noah gave her a gentle smile, patting her head. “Maybe. We’re just looking for now.”
David, meanwhile, engaged Patrick in casual conversation about the building’s history, while Noah’s mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation.
Patrick was hiding the building’s flaws, hoping to pass it off to someone else. The memories he had seen confirmed that.
But Noah wasn’t about to let that slide. Stepping back toward David, Noah kept his voice neutral.
“It’s a nice place,” he said, glancing at Patrick, whose smile remained pleasant but nervous.
“But we should keep looking. There are a few more places to see today.”
Patrick’s expression faltered for a split second, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.
He opened his mouth as if to protest but quickly closed it, offering a tight smile instead.
“Of course. Take your time, and if you have any questions, just let me know.”
David nodded, still in good spirits, and thanked Patrick before motioning for Noah and Emily to follow him outside.
As they stepped into the fresh air, David turned to Noah. “What do you think? It’s got charm, right?”
Noah looked at his dad, considering his response carefully. “It does, but I think we should keep looking. There’s more going on with that place than meets the eye.”
David raised an eyebrow, surprised by Noah’s intuition. “What do you mean?”
Noah glanced back at the building briefly before turning to face his dad. “I just don’t think it’s the right fit for us.”
David trusted Noah’s instincts and nodded. “Alright, we’ll keep looking.”
As they arrived at the last appointment, Noah felt an immediate shift.
The other two places they had visited that day were disappointing—both lacked the foot traffic needed to make the teahouse thrive.
But here, it was different.
The streets were full with people, tourists wandered with cameras, office workers hurried by in tailored suits, and older couples strolled leisurely along the sidewalks.
It was a diverse crowd—rich people, professionals, young and old—all potential customers.
There were no other teahouses or direct competitors in sight.
This place had potential, and Noah knew it.
“This could be it,” Noah thought as they approached the quaint building. The location was prime, and Noah’s instincts told him there was an opportunity here, one he was ready to seize.
They entered the shop, a cosy little place that had clearly been cared for. The interior was warm, inviting, and well-decorated.
Behind the counter stood a young woman, her expression slightly reserved but friendly.
She had an air of innocence about her, her face soft and kind, though not strikingly beautiful—Noah mentally rated her around a 79 in terms of attractiveness, noting her demeanour as he always did with people.
David stepped forward, smiling as he introduced them. “Hello, Stacy. This is my son, Noah, whom I told you would be joining me today.”
As Stacy’s eyes landed on Noah, a flicker of shock passed through her face. She wasn’t expecting someone like him—tall, athletic, with broad shoulders that filled out his jacket.
His handsome face and confident demeanour made her visibly pause.
“H-hello,” she stammered slightly, quickly recovering herself. “I’m Stacy. It’s nice to meet you.”
Noah gave a charming, polite smile, his eyes glinting with just the right amount of warmth. “It’s nice to meet you too, Miss Stacy. I have to say, I like the place already.”
Stacy smiled, clearly proud of her work. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone softening. “I’ve tried to keep it the way my late father liked it. He loved this shop… it’s been in the family for years.”
Noah’s expression shifted slightly, adopting a more comforting tone. “I’m sure he’d be proud of what you’ve done with it. It really has a welcoming feel.”
As they continued talking, Noah subtly brushed against Stacy, his arm lightly grazing hers. It was a minor, almost unnoticeable touch, but it was enough.
Stacy apologized quickly, stepping aside to give him more room, not thinking much of it. She assumed the space was just tight and moved back, but Noah reassured her, his voice calm and easy.
“Don’t worry about it.”
But in that brief moment of contact, something happened.
“Memory Glance” activated.
His mind swirled with images as scenes from Stacy’s past flashed before him in rapid succession.
Noah found himself standing in the same shop, but the atmosphere was different.
It was quieter, more sombre. Stacy, looking younger and more vulnerable, was standing behind the counter, arguing with a man in a suit.
Her expression was one of desperation, her hands gripping a piece of paper tightly.
“I don’t have $10,000 right now,” she was saying, her voice trembling. “The repairs took everything I had. Can’t you give me more time?”
The man shook his head coldly. “You’ve already delayed payments twice. If you don’t pay the rent, we’ll have no choice but to…”
Tears welled up in Stacy’s eyes, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I—I’ll figure something out,” she whispered, clutching the paper as the man left, the door slamming shut behind him.
The scene shifted. Stacy was now sitting alone in the back of the shop, surrounded by bills and documents, her face pale with stress.
She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, her hair a mess as she stared at the numbers in front of her. The shop was struggling.
Repairs from a recent issue had drained her savings, and she was barely managing to keep the place afloat. She owed money to several people, including the landlord of her house.
The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Noah standing in the present, his expression calm and controlled.
He now understood Stacy’s situation—she was barely holding on to the shop.
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