"But..."
Dubois closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again. "No matter how much you became like Roselle, you weren't him in the end. Every time I saw you... I felt I was looking at a stranger wearing his skin, and it terrified me to my core. So I chose to part ways with you."
"No wonder."
Huang Tao pulled up a weed and tossed it away. "I wondered why you'd suddenly fallen out with me over a courtesan back then."
"So I really want to know. Did he really die back then? Had he really disappeared long ago?"
Huang Tao rubbed his forehead. Whether it was the alcohol kicking in or Dubois's questions, his head ached all over, yet he tilted his head back and took another drink. "He... no, of course I didn't die."
"I am Roselle Gustav, but something unexpected did happen to me. You could think of it as... me awakening some memories from a past life. So... perhaps I really have changed, but I am Roselle. The genuine Roselle!"
Dubois stared steadily at him for a long while. "I understand."
"To you, Roselle."
He clinked bottles with Roselle again and drained the remaining Blood Wine, then rose unsteadily. "Tonight... everything we said will be forgotten tomorrow, once we sober up."
He took a step back and bowed. "Good night."
Then, carrying the empty bottle, he staggered away.
Roselle watched Dubois's retreating figure gradually disappear, calmer than he had ever been. Had this happened before he met the President and that priest, he thought he would probably have done something "rational"-like killing Dubois!
But now, none of it seemed to matter.
Just as he had told Dubois, his situation could be described as Huang Tao's soul transmigrating into Roselle and inheriting his memories; it could equally