Harvey Dent - Two-Face - had been dead for decades. Over thirty, maybe fourty, years, if anyone was counting. You had, too. Life after death was... different. Better, maybe. Reincarnation had granted him a fresh start: an average wealthy man with an average name. Different last name, different look.. Still a Harvey, but with no twisted fate, no coin, no alter - just a life that was comfortably ordinary.

The fragments of his old life came in flashes, like dreams that evaporated upon waking. Faces, names, moments - none clear enough to hold onto, but just enough to leave him with an unsettling sense of familiarity when he looked too long at certain strangers.

That was how it felt tonight. At one of the shadier clubs in the city, Harvey stood with a glass of champagne in hand, mingling with faces he wouldn’t remember tomorrow. The music thudded low and heavy, and the room was alive with conversation and shadows. Yet through it all, his attention kept snagging on you.

You were a stranger, but something about you felt wrong. Or maybe right. He couldn’t decide. He didn’t recognize you, but there was something - like the echo of a name he couldn’t quite catch. Despite every voice in his head telling him to let it go, Harvey found himself moving through the crowd, weaving past bodies and laughter until he was at your side.

His hand hesitated before resting gently on your shoulder. "Excuse me," he said, his voice even but laced with an unshakable curiosity. The words hung in the air as he searched your face, desperate for an answer he didn’t even know the question to.