Evan lay on the table in the kitchen. He was tied up like a piece of meat. Frida stood over him. The she-wolf had hunger in her eyes. Saliva dripped from her mouth. Evan lay on the plate with an erection. Frida nipped at him and licked.
"Oh, how delicious. I've missed this so much."
After those words she seized his penis and began to suck it like a treat.
"Oh yes, I really missed this."
Callisa came over to him and began pouring wine over him, which she greedily licked off.
"We really missed this."
Morona said, licking him around the neck.
Aiko tried to draw it, but she had a hard task, because she was masturbating intensely.
No one planned to eat Evan, and he himself did not expect it either. They were simply playing. It was something they had lacked for a long time.
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
The dormitory door suddenly opened. Director Arslan, Commissioner Vollmond, and Professor Gator entered. For a moment they froze in the doorway.
Gator was the first to regain control.
"Does the situation require intervention?"
"No," everyone answered calmly.
"I think you should put the fun aside for later. We need to have a serious talk with you."
The looks of the director and the commissioner made it clear that this was a very serious conversation.
The girls quickly untied Evan. Then everyone began frantically wiping themselves with towels. At the end they scrambled for their clothes. Finally everyone sat on the couch.
The director sighed and began to say why they had come.
"Zahira is making quite a mess."
All four of them began to worry seriously.
"She's planning to kidnap Evan again?! Didn't she learn anything?!" Frida shouted, furious.
"The good thing is that nothing points to that. We have another, more irritating problem. She's trying to impose her narrative on the world."
"I don't understand. What narrative?" At that moment her phone sent a notification. "Mail?"
"Open it," Gator sighed.
The catgirl did as she was told and was struck speechless.
"That's exactly it. Zahira is sending emails to all artists, writers, literary organizations."
"She wants to convince everyone that what happened then is the true ending?"
"Yes." Anger sounded in Ernst's voice. "She's spreading videos, texts, photos, and anything she can all over the internet."
"And someone is buying it?" Frida growled.
"What do you mean?" Callisa asked with unease.
Arslan observed the girls for a moment. They were clearly worried, but they looked ready to fight.
"For now the matter is fresh, but it will start soon." Ernst grimaced.
"A great academic discussion is about to begin. Several acquaintances have already contacted me asking for confirmation." Gator looked as if he had eaten a lemon.
"And then the worst possible hyenas will swarm… Journalists." Ernst's voice dripped with contempt.
"Commissioner, please do not insult hyenas." Gator measured him with a look.
"Sorry, hyenas."
"That is why we want to store Evan somewhere until the matter dies down." Arslan said it as if everything had already been decided except the place itself.
Morona was about to say something, but the doorbell interrupted them.
"Who could that be?"
"I don't know. Frida, with me!"
Ernst went to the hallway. Frida followed him. Both looked very combative. The remaining girls covered the windows. A tense atmosphere reigned in the living room. After a moment Ernst's voice carried through the air.
"It's only a courier."
After the signature they stood before a great cardboard box. According to the label, the sender was a spice importer.
"Strange…"
"What's strange, Callisa?"
"I know this brand. The owner died a few years ago."
Everyone tensed. Delivering such a large package to the dormitory could not be a coincidence. Everyone suspected who the real sender was.
Ernst listened to the box. He pulled out a handheld detector that was standard equipment of the meat department. The device detected nothing. He sniffed the box and listened for a moment longer.
"No mechanisms, chemistry, or charges. It looks safe."
"Can we open it?"
"Yes, but I don't know if we should."
They opened it.
Inside were two things. A great carved ebony chest inlaid with gold, and a letter with a wax seal.
Gator took the letter. Ernst sniffed it and nodded. Then the professor handed it to Evan, who opened the seal.
"It's from Zahira," he began to read. "Honorable Prince Evan. Thank you for revealing to me the true ending of the fairy tale. Because the fairy tale did not end as I thought, in accordance with my promise I am sending the prince a gift." Evan felt the blood rise in him. These words sounded as if he had volunteered for the whole excess. "The prince has the right to fully hate me, but let him not hate my gift. The royal saffron has committed no sin."
Evan fell silent at once. Not only he. Callisa and Arslan too. The word saffron alone had power, but combined with royal it was a promise that reason did not intend to believe, yet every cook desired it to be true.
All three fixed their eyes on the chest. They seemed to drift off for a moment.
"Damn, what's wrong with you? It's just a chest!" Frida approached the chest and with one motion lifted the lid. A mixture of various scents burst from inside. Instantly Arslan, Evan, and Callisa convulsed.
"What happened to you?" Everyone shouted.
Gator glanced inside the chest and an unpleasant understanding appeared on his face. Evan pulled himself up to the chest and with great effort drew out a crystal casket adorned with gold. It was filled with red-yellow threads. Attached to it was a card and a wax seal. He held it as if it were a relic.
"100 grams…" he said quietly.
"And what, getting emotional over some threads?"
All three cooks turned to Frida and looked at her as if she had just committed some blasphemy.
"Frida… Apologize… Saffron…" Each word from Callisa's mouth sounded with indescribable anger.
"What are you…"
Frida had already begun to argue, but Callisa's look alone sent her to her knees. For some reason she trembled.
"I'm sorry…"
Callisa furrowed her brows.
"I'm very sorry…"
Callisa began to growl. Frida swallowed.
"I'm very sorry, I have no idea about saffron and I don't understand why it's so exceptional."
Callisa looked at her for a moment longer as if at something that could be chopped into pieces before she spoke.
"Let's say that's enough."
Then they returned to checking the chest.
"Actually, is this saffron somehow special?" Aiko asked quietly.
Arslan showed them the wax seal.
"I know this seal all too well," he said with bitterness and sadness. "This saffron comes from a plantation that has been run by them for many generations. Once I wanted to buy two grams from them…" A very long silence fell. "They sent me packing."
An even greater silence fell.
"Were they short of goods?" Aiko said very quietly.
"No. They didn't say why."
"And what did you do with them?" Frida asked, sniffing for some story of revenge.
"Nothing…"
Everyone looked at Arslan, who looked like a tormented student.
"What do you mean, nothing? You're a member of the council and someone can refuse you just like that, on a whim?"
"That's how it is with those planters. They have a lot to say. What's worse, I see more such treasures…" Arslan looked inside the chest.
They began taking things out one by one. Jars and caskets. Each had rich ornamentation, seals, and certificates.
Thirty sticks of thick, intensely fragrant vanilla.
A jar of sticks of delicate cinnamon. A jar of cardamom pods. A jar of ginger. A jar of turmeric. A jar of cumin. A jar of nutmeg. A jar of mace.
"Do all these also have such crazy producers as this saffron?"
Arslan only nodded. Callisa suddenly cried out and raised a bottle of oil.
"I know this brand. My father did… such things to get one bottle of this oil and he didn't get it, and there are twelve of them." She began tearing the hair from her head. "Twelve bottles of oil that is simply unobtainable?! How did she get them?"
Next was Evan. He drew out a bottle of red syrup.
"Pomegranate syrup?"
"From the plantation of Suleiman Al-Nebir. A variety of pomegranates bred on that very plantation grows there. And the family guards those trees closely."
Then they drew out two other jars. One with two kilograms of pepper, and the other with five kilograms of some blue salt.
"This is normal, right?"
"That's long pepper," Evan said. "If you call it ordinary, it's like calling a vegan hippie a hardcore motorcyclist."
Frida even trembled at that comparison.
"Okay, I get it. And the salt?"
"That's Persian blue salt, from…"
"Okay, something else…"
Further they drew out a bag of pistachios. Four kilograms of large, intensely green pistachios. Beside them the ones from the store looked like some waste.
"Sidr honey…"
Callisa drew out six half-kilogram jars.
"From some prestigious apiary, run by a picky snob?"
"Worse…" The whole trio hung their heads.
"This is cave honey. Obtained from wild bees. Only in one narrow area. Once every two years."
The last casket contained flower petals. The sound of falling to the floor rang out in the room.
"Morona!!!"
"I know this symbol. It's the symbol of the Mawar temple. These must be consecrated rose petals. Cultivated in sacred gardens by naked temple virgins, never with the use of iron or chemistry, so that they are ritually pure. Even the harvest is ritually pure."
Ernst stood up. Until now he had been quiet.
"All right. I know this is important culinarily. But the question is, were these obtained legally? Certificates?"
"All of them look authentic."
"Proof of purchase?"
"There are."
"Numbers?"
"Those too."
"I hate well-organized criminals."
Ernst ground a few bitter words in his mouth.
"Zahira likes unusual things too much. Ordinariness is an insult to her." Gator clenched his jaw, and Frida spoke.
"Actually, how much is this worth? Can you buy a decent motorcycle for it?"
The cooks looked at her, tired.
"Miss Vollmond, this isn't about the market value alone. Here money only lets you ask whether you are worthy of the purchase."
"I can't imagine it," Frida said quietly. "Would there be a motorcycle?"
"Frida," Callisa's voice sounded very tired. "For that much I could buy a good motorcycle for my entire gang."
Frida widened her eyes.
"And not only that. You'd still buy a professional workshop for them."
"A workshop?" Frida was jerked.
"And you'd still have enough for a fully equipped bar. There would still be left for fuel and tickets."
Frida lowered her ears.
"Okay, now I understand, but what about the chest… you know, who it's from."
The whole trio looked at her and began speaking in turn.
"We'll hide it."
"In a dry place."
"With the right temperature."
"And humidity."
Everyone looked at the cooks.
"You're talking about a pantry right now?"
Arslan struck the floor with his fist.
"Yes, we'll hide it in the pantry and we won't think about who all this is from." Then he began to growl. "How I hate that witch."
At that moment Evan noticed something.
"Wait, there's still a postscript in the letter."
All heads turned toward him as he began to read.
"I am truly glad that I could learn the ending. Another story is ongoing in this time. I do not know if it will be a fairy tale or an ordinary tale. This time I will content myself with the role of spectator."
Evan finished reading. Silence fell for a moment. At that moment they heard pounding on the door.
"Evan!!! Let me in!!! Quickly!!!"
It was Rufus, and he was pounding on their door. Evan quickly rushed to it. It was clear that this story was beginning to pick up speed.