[ He angrily lowers his sword, but - actually does what he's told, falling into step with Hanguang-jun rather than arguing against moving.

All because at least he remembered his name.

His mind races as he tries to figure out how to place him. After he's been born, at least. He hates how much of a relief that is. A relief that he isn't just a ghost, thrust too far forward for all the people he yearns to follow to utterly forget him.

It's just a name, and it's delivered with a icy scolding, but the relief is sharp enough to dull the attack.

If not the shame.

The shame is still plenty heavy.

He doesn't know where they're going and he doesn't particularly care, though eventually he does give up waiting for complete privacy. ]

You don't get to talk to me that way. [ Stiffly, thickly. ] Not after everything that happened. I don't care if you don't remember it or not. I don't care if any of you remember it, or not. At least you know my name. That's one thing over him.

[ He didn't think he needed to stipulate who 'he' was. ]

So how much. How much are you missing. My parents? You remember what happened to them? Or are you not even there yet?