Chapter 6 — Is There Magic in This World?
"Klaus, come to my office after your shift."
"Is that really necessary? I have no desire to stay here a second longer than I already have."
"I need to speak with you," Klara said, leaving no room for refusal.
"I'm taking a smoke break."
"Why can't you be as pleasant with me as you are with the customers?" she asked with a faint, knowing smile.
"I don't get paid for that."
Klaus turned and headed for the emergency exit.
By now, he understood why half the staff smoked.
It wasn't habit.
It was survival.
He stepped into the cramped smoking corner, pulled out a fresh pack, lit a cigarette.
Inhaled.
Held it.
Then exhaled sharply.
"Filth."
"Then why the hell did you start?" Mia asked, leaning against the wall.
"Mia."
Familiar place.
Familiar face.
No threat.
And yet—
That feeling again.
Wrong.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Back home, he would've trusted it without hesitation.
Here—
he didn't know anymore.
"You look worse than usual," Mia said. "Something happen?"
"This is my usual state."
"Here." She handed him a folded note. "Someone asked me to give this to you."
"Again?" Klaus scoffed, unfolding it. "This is getting ridiculous."
"The more attention you get, the more I earn," she said with a grin.
"I'm not interested in shallow girls."
He didn't even finish reading.
Crushed the note.
Dropped it.
"If a girl makes the first move, that doesn't make her shallow," Mia said. "Or do you just not like women?"
"I like women," Klaus said flatly. "But right now, desire is a distraction."
"And love?" she asked softly. "Isn't that something more?"
"Then why don't you confess your 'something more' to Egor?"
She froze.
"…How did you—"
"You're transparent."
She flushed.
"It's not like that. I like him, but… not like that. I don't want anything serious. Do you understand?"
"No," Klaus said. "If you want something, you take it. If you love someone, you claim them. Anything less is weakness."
"It's not that simple," she said quietly. "I don't feel anything from him. If I try and he rejects me… I lose even the hope I have now."
"Then you're a coward," Klaus said without hesitation. "If you want something—take it. Fight for it. Steal it if you have to."
"God, you're intense," she muttered. "But you've never loved anyone, have you?"
"No."
He flicked the cigarette away and crushed it under his heel.
"Filth."
"Then stop smoking."
"I'd rather choke on this than spend another minute bowing like a trained animal."
"You're seriously messed up."
They returned inside.
Egor was behind the bar, laying out napkins.
He looked up—
and froze.
They were talking.
Close.
Klaus almost looked—
relaxed.
Fine.
Let him switch to her.
She'll run.
They always do.
"Why are you just standing there?"
Egor flinched as Klaus's hand landed on his shoulder.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
He shoved it off harder than he meant to.
Why the hell does he get under my skin like this?
"We're staying late," Klaus said with a grimace. "Klara called me in."
"And why does that concern me? You know the way home."
"So you were listening."
Klaus turned and walked off.
"Unbelievable," Egor muttered. "I don't even know what to call him anymore."
"You two are cute," Mia said with a quiet laugh.
"I can't stand him."
"I don't think that's true," she said softly, then walked away.
"I hate him," Egor muttered again.
More for himself than anyone else.
He didn't understand it.
With customers, Klaus was perfect.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Effortless.
In one week, he'd become Klara's favorite.
So why—
Why was he such an unbearable bastard with him?
Why did he snap at his grandmother?
Why did he keep talking about another world like it was real?
And that feeling earlier—
when he saw him with Mia—
That wasn't anger.
…Was it?
Jealousy?
Pathetic.
"Egor, you can go. Klaus—my office."
"I'll wait outside," Egor said quickly.
"Make sure the door is locked," Klara added with a smile. "You know Slava—always dreaming."
The bar was empty.
Only the three of them remained.
Egor checked the door.
Locked.
But the blinds—
still open.
Movement.
A girl stood pressed against the glass.
Not quite a beggar.
But close.
Dirty clothes.
Smeared makeup.
Hair tangled into a matted mess.
Her eyes—
Wrong.
Wide.
Too wide.
Pupils blown.
Breathing fast.
Shallow.
Her fingers scraped across the glass.
Slow.
Desperate.
Like she was trying to push through it.
A cold shiver ran down Egor's spine.
For a second—
pity almost made him step closer.
Then something twisted deep in his gut.
No.
Wrong.
Danger.
He dropped the blinds immediately.
Nope.
Not dealing with that.
He headed to the back exit.
"So," Klara said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs, "I'm impressed."
Klaus stood across from her, arms folded.
"You called me here to praise me?"
"Don't push it. Your charm seems reserved for customers. I keep hoping that might change—at least when you speak to me."
"It won't."
She smiled.
Slow.
Measured.
Predatory.
"I have an offer."
"Not interested."
"You haven't heard it yet."
"That won't change my answer."
"Let's try this differently," she said smoothly. "Do you want more money? A better apartment? A car? Anything you want?"
Klaus paused.
"Pauoka insists I work for money," he said quietly. "So yes. I need it."
"Who?"
"The old woman I live with."
"Your grandmother?" Klara laughed. "You're cold."
"Our relationship is transactional."
"Perfect."
She stood.
Walked around the desk.
Slowly.
Too close.
That same instinct surged again.
Danger.
Her fingers tilted his chin upward.
Her breath brushed his ear.
"There's no catch," she murmured. "You serve clients… and offer additional services. If both sides agree."
Klaus went still.
Then pulled away.
"No."
"Don't pretend you don't understand," she said softly. "Why do you think wealthy clients pay for privacy and beautiful staff?"
"You're asking me to sell myself."
"Oh please," she said lightly. "No one's forcing you. What you do is your choice."
"I've already answered."
Anger burned under his skin.
Hot.
Violent.
This wasn't enough.
Falling this far wasn't enough for her.
She wanted more.
"I'm not rushing you," Klara said. "But don't wait too long. You've already attracted attention. They're willing to pay. You wouldn't even have to do much. Sit. Drink. Smile."
"No."
Her smile didn't fade.
"Enjoy your weekend, Klaus. I'll ask again."
He turned and walked out before he did something irreversible.
He would not fall that low.
Not for money.
Not for survival.
Better to rot here—
than become someone's toy.
"Why do you look like you're about to kill someone?" Egor asked.
"Let's go."
Klaus didn't slow.
Egor followed.
Then—
Movement.
The girl.
"There you are… finally… finally…"
Her voice cracked.
Wrong.
Broken.
Her eyes—
wild.
Her smile—
too wide.
Her body jerked forward in unnatural, uneven motions.
Like something else was pulling her.
The two froze.
Egor saw Klaus change.
Instantly.
Cold.
Sharp.
Ready.
"Miss, the bar is closed," Egor said quickly, grabbing Klaus's arm. "Come back later—"
She ignored him.
"Found you… found you…"
"Hey—are you even listening?" Klaus snapped.
She stopped.
Then—
She lunged.
Fast.
Too fast.
Egor didn't think.
He moved.
Stepped in front of Klaus.
Arms up.
Protect.
Klaus felt it.
A presence.
Faint—
But real.
Magic.
That single realization—
cost him.
The girl grabbed Egor's arm.
A scream tore out of him.
The smell hit instantly.
Burning flesh.
His sleeve ignited where her hand touched him.
Heat tore through skin—
like red-hot iron driven straight into bone.
A perfect circle burned through fabric—
into flesh.
Something pressed into him.
Carved into him.
An eye.
The pupil—
moved.
Alive.
Watching.
Then—
A flare of light—
And it died.
Leaving the mark behind.
"What the fuck is this?!" Egor shouted, stumbling back, clutching his arm.
The girl collapsed.
Empty.
Drained.
Like something had ripped her soul out and discarded the body.
"Show me," Klaus snapped, grabbing his wrist.
"…Impossible."
"You saw it too, right? The eye—it moved!"
"You saw the mark on her hand?"
"Yes—when she touched me it felt like—"
"Like being branded alive," Klaus finished.
He crouched beside the girl.
Checked her pulse.
"Call an ambulance. Now."
"Or you could explain what the hell just happened!"
"Call. The. Ambulance."
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Final.
"…Fine."
Egor pulled out his phone.
Hands shaking.
When did I start listening to him without arguing?
And worse—
Why did I step in front of him?
Why did I protect him?
They left before the ambulance arrived.
Silence all the way home.
"Wake up, old woman!" Klaus shouted the moment they entered.
"Are you insane?!" Egor snapped. "Explain first—"
"Now."
The door opened.
Pauoka stepped out—
annoyed—
Then froze.
"What happened?"
"A tracking mark appeared in this world."
Her expression changed instantly.
They examined Egor's wrist.
"It's a search brand," she said quietly. "Strong. Whoever cast it can track you anywhere."
"And what does that mean for me?" Egor asked.
"They were aiming for Klaus," she said. "Now they'll think you're him."
Silence.
Egor went pale.
"…Perfect. Just perfect. Now I get to be him too."
Klaus set a cup of coffee in front of him.
"As an apology."
Egor blinked.
And just like that—
the anger cracked.
How the hell does he do that?
How can someone be this unbearable—
and still—
—
Pauoka and Klaus talked long into the night.
Whoever cast the spell wanted Klaus.
It could be an ally.
Or an enemy finishing what had already begun.
Either way—
There was only one path into this world.
And they would come.
Soon.