Rosselaine hesitated. She almost drank it... but paused. "Wait... what's your name?" she asked.
The little man was surprised. She had never asked that before. Usually, she drank it and everything reset. Still, he kept his calm.Â
"Saltho. My name is Saltho."
"Salto? Like... the backflip kick move in soccer in Bahasa? No offense, that's an odd name," Rosselaine replied, squinting.
Saltho smiled faintly and nodded. He didn't deny it. He simply waited for her to drink, eyes fixed on her as she examined the potion and slowly shook her head.
"Oh, no. She's starting to suspect," Saltho thought.
Breaking the silence, he tried to keep the mood light, "Well, Rosselaine. As I've told you a dozen times, my name has an H---Saltho, not Salto. Come on, don't waste my time. You know very well how tight our schedule is. Performances from one closet to another. You're wasting my rest time."
Though he sounded stern, there was no trace of command in his voice---more like a friend familiar with an old friend's stubborn habits.
Rosselaine didn't answer. She studied the glowing liquid again. It looked like purple cabbage tea... but with a strange turmeric-like smell. Beautiful, yet revolting. Her tongue recoiled at the thought of it sliding down her throat.
"You said earlier I looked scared like someone who had never been here before. Have I really done this before, Saltho? Strange... Why don't I remember anything?"
Saltho began to panic.
