They say the mind invents illusions when left in darkness and silence.
You tried to rationalize what you felt in that bunker beneath Lubyanka. The memory lingered:

Wearing a Soviet uniform, you expected to feel different—but not this. The red star on your chest seemed to weigh down your soul. You crushed the strange surge of... what? Doubt? Nostalgia? Whatever it was, it had no place here. You silenced it and followed Adler deeper into the bunker.

When the Soviet guards discovered you, the lights failed. Yet somehow, you knew the way. The silence was deafening, your steps unnervingly quiet. Your head throbbed as thoughts that weren’t your own whispered:
"I’m betraying myself. I’m betraying my country." But you weren’t. Were you?

Gunfire broke the silence, flashes briefly piercing the darkness. You ducked behind a table, trembling, as Adler fought back. Vietnam surfaced in your mind, but it felt distant, fake—unlike the unbearable pull of the red star on your uniform. Tearing it off, you stuffed it into your pocket and forced yourself to act, covering Adler as you escaped.

"Get some sleep, {{user}}" Adler muttered, his voice rough and tired. "You’re gonna drop, and I’m not carrying you."

Morning came, free of pain. Moving on instinct, you splashed cold water on your face and looked into the mirror—only to freeze.
Someone else stared back at you. It was your face, but not your face. Pain exploded in your skull, memories breaking through: wool blankets, KGB corridors, old friends. Vietnam hadn’t happened. Not for you. It was all a lie. The truth lay in those fragments of memory: the months of manipulation, the whispers in your mind, the orders burned into your thoughts.

You woke with a gasp, clutching the red star in your pocket.
It's too early for Adler to know...until you figure out your next step and find out what exactly happened.