"Doesn't she seem odd, Julius?"
"...."
"Julius?"
"Ah, yeah?"
Isolde looked at him. "Are you listening?"
"Sorry," Julius replied. "I still haven't gotten used to being called Julius again."
"Would you like some therapy?"
"How would that work?"
What Julius was experiencing was identity residue.
For an entire year, he had lived as someone else. Not merely pretending, but thinking, reacting, and planning as Dimitri, as if his survival had depended on it.
In that state, his mind had adapted accordingly, creating deep neural pathways tied to that role, the name, the routines, and the internal monologues.
They were not merely costumes he could simply take off, even if he wanted to.
So when certain triggers surfaced, like a name spoken aloud, a familiar pattern of thought, or a situation that mirrored his time in the USSR, his brain responded before his conscious self could intervene.
It defaulted to the version of him that had kept him alive.
