Ha.
Ha?
Was Florian joking?
Heinz waited—expected, even—for Florian to laugh, to say it was some kind of bad joke or exaggeration. But Florian just stared at him, expression dead serious. Not a hint of teasing. Not a flicker of doubt.
"How could that be? That's ridiculous," Heinz muttered, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "The God turned back time for me, not for Hendrix. There is no possible way Hendrix has his memories."
His voice carried conviction, but the more he repeated it, the more it felt like he was trying to convince himself. He could almost hear the cracks beginning to form.
Because Heinz did remember that the original Florian also somehow retained his memories. A fact that never sat fully right with him.
But he'd rationalized it—told himself that it was because Florian had been replaced by 'Aden.' That maybe the vessel, or the soul, or whatever strange divine mechanism had been used, preserved the memories somehow.
