"I know it is hard to believe," Hendrix said quietly, his voice laced with a strange mixture of resignation and urgency. "Especially... you are in love with him."
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers tangling slightly in the dark strands as if trying to collect his thoughts.
"However, it is true. That vision... it's a deep memory. One that still lives inside you—whether it's your soul, your body, or both."
Florian blinked, slow and deliberate, forcing his expression to stay still. Controlled. His features were calm, but his eyes—he made sure they reflected disbelief, confusion. Perfectly believable reactions.
Even though, deep down, he wasn't just pretending anymore.
'Honestly, Florian was also genuinely surprised because it seemed Hendrix was exactly like Heinz.'
The revelation hit harder than he expected. Both brothers remembered.
They were both regressors.
