Egor sat at the kitchen table, slowly sipping hot tea, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that day.
The blinding white light.The enormous spider.And Klaus.
Strong. Brave. Reckless. Fearless.
Was that really what his everyday life looked like back in his world? Was brushing up against death just… normal to him?
Judging by the way Klaus calmly devoured baked meat smothered in tomato sauce, it seemed like it was.
"Hey. Pass the pickles. Egor? You deaf?" Klaus waved a hand in front of his unfocused eyes.
"How the hell are you eating like nothing happened?"
"Nothing happened?" Klaus frowned, then let out a short breath. "Oh. Right. You've never seen things like that." He held out his hand. "So? Pickles?"
Egor clicked his tongue, got up, grabbed the jar from the fridge, dumped a few onto a plate, and set it down in front of him a little too hard.
Pauoka ate in silence, lost in thought, barely paying them any attention.
Egor couldn't wrap his head around it.
They could've died today. Just like that.
Did that really mean nothing to them?
His eyes drifted around the kitchen.
A dark gray stain had spread across the wall above the cabinets. The wood near the sink was rotting from moisture. The linoleum was torn in several places, exposing cracked, crumbling concrete underneath. When he leaned on the table, it wobbled.
"Maybe we should fix this place up," he said suddenly, as casually as if he were suggesting how to spend a bonus.
Klaus and Pauoka both froze mid-bite and looked at him.
"What?" Egor frowned. "You actually like living in a place that's falling apart?"
"Egor… are you sure you're alright?" Pauoka asked carefully. "Maybe you should lie down."
"Yeah. Go sleep it off," Klaus added without looking at him. "You're in shock. Talking nonsense."
Egor stared at them.
Am I wrong?
We can't even fix this place? Klaus earns good money… don't they see how bad it is?
But something told him to drop it.
He left his tea unfinished and quietly went to his room, feeling their eyes on his back.
"I mean… he's not wrong," Klaus said after a moment, tearing a piece of bread apart.
"About the renovation? I wouldn't mind," Pauoka said. "Let him deal with it."
"Yeah. He's shaken. Let him keep busy before his head really goes."
A brief silence followed.
"We need to find the girl who branded him," Pauoka said.
"Why?"
"Magic. It's still in her. We can't afford to miss a chance to gather more—unless you've changed your mind about going back."
"That won't be easy. We know nothing about her."
"But we know someone who finds what others can't. Removes problems. Makes very convincing documents."
"You mean your Andryusha?" Klaus snorted. "Didn't he already pay off his debt?"
"Money can reopen that conversation."
"And how much are we talking?"
"More than the three of us can pull together right now."
Klaus stared at his empty plate.
He couldn't pass up the chance to get home faster.
And he knew exactly how to get the money.
He just didn't want to admit it.
He'd already fallen low enough.
Did he really want to sink further?
What were pride, honor, strength—all the things his father had drilled into him—worth if he never made it back?
Egor's face flashed in his mind. Bright. Open. Looking at him like he was something more than human.
If Klaus did nothing, that weak idiot could die because of him.
Was that guilt?
Or something worse?
Klaus slowly raised his head.
"I'll get the money," he said at last, voice tight. "Find out how much. I'll handle the rest."
Pauoka watched him closely.
"You're not about to rob a bank, are you?"
"Don't talk nonsense. I'll earn it." He поднял руку, cutting her off. "Don't ask how. It's nothing illegal. Not exactly to my taste… but I'll do what it takes."
"To get back?"
"Yes."
"…Alright," she said quietly.
Egor lay in bed until evening.
His mind refused to process what had happened, drifting instead to pointless thoughts.
What color cabinets would look better?Would they have enough money for a full renovation—or just something cosmetic?Why did cats always latch onto one person?Would Grandma even allow a dog?Or maybe a hamster… a guinea pig…What was the point of those, anyway?
And those tiny dogs that looked like they'd die of fear any second…
Slowly, his thoughts circled back.
If he started going to the gym, could he become as strong as Klaus?Maybe there was some course online that could teach courage…How soon would Klaus leave?Would they even have time to fix the apartment?
A sports jacket dissolving under venom flashed through his mind.
What if it had touched his skin?
Klaus could've died.
Because of him.
"Still awake?" a low voice came from the doorway.
Egor's eyes snapped open.
"Sorry. Took your bed," Klaus said with an awkward half-laugh. "Well… my bed. The one you stole."
"It's fine. Stay."
Klaus stepped over the rolled mattress on the floor, grabbed a pillow from the chair, and lay down beside him. The bed was narrow—they had no choice but to lie close.
"I'm sorry about today," Klaus said quietly. The words sounded foreign in his mouth. "The brand. The spider. It was meant for me. You got dragged into it."
Egor stared at him, stunned.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm trying to apologize."
"I just… didn't expect that from you."
A faint smile flickered across Klaus's lips as he stared at the ceiling.
Egor studied his profile—the straight nose, long lashes, sharply defined lips, the black crescent tattoo at his temple.
"What do your tattoos mean?" he asked, reaching out without thinking.
Klaus slapped his hand away on reflex—but held it for a second longer than necessary before letting go.
"They're like identification," he said. "Status marks. Family crests."
"Even slaves?"
"Yeah. But slaves get branded on the arm or leg. A circle around the crest—one for low rank, two for middle, three for high. Sometimes extra symbols get added. A jug for a master potter. An eye for a search mage. A lily for someone trained in… certain services."
Egor swallowed.
"And nobles?"
"They're required to wear their clan crest on their face."
He tapped his temple.
"Believe me now?"
"After today? Not like I've got a choice."
They both smiled faintly.
"So. The renovation," Klaus said suddenly.
"What?"
"You were right. This place is a dump."
"Wait—what renovation? We've got bigger problems!"
"We'll handle those. You stay out of it."
"No." Egor pushed himself up on one elbow. "The brand is on me. I'm not sitting back while you risk your life again."
"You'd just get in the way."
"I know!" Egor snapped. "But I'll still try to be useful. That's better than dumping everything on you—or on Grandma."
Klaus looked at him for a long moment.
"You are weak," he said bluntly. "Don't make that face—it's true. But you're right about one thing. That brand's going to drag trouble straight to you. Better I'm there when it happens."
"I don't want you risking your life for me again."
Klaus smirked, reached over, and ruffled his hair.
"Relax. Protecting what's mine is a master's duty."
Egor didn't even get offended.
Later, Klaus stood outside Klara's office, absently rubbing his thigh through his pocket.
He'd made his decision.
Saying it out loud was the hard part.
Pauoka had already found out the price. Higher than expected. Half upfront, half after.
They didn't even have the first half.
No time left to hesitate.
Klaus exhaled, wiped his palms against the inside of his pockets, and knocked three times.
"Come in."
He pushed the door open.
No turning back.
Every instinct in his body screamed in protest.
He was a warrior. A prince. The heir to a kingdom.
And now?
Taking orders from some brazen woman. About to bow to a pack of bored, middle-aged clients who paid for attention.
Disgusting.
"And here I thought you'd never come," Klara smiled.
"I agree," Klaus said quietly, stepping closer, hands clasped behind his back.
"Sorry?"
"I accept your offer," he repeated, louder, through clenched teeth.
Her smile widened.
"I knew you were smart. When can you start?"
"As soon as possible."
"Perfect. Training starts today. You'll do very well—people are already asking about you."
"…Fine."
"You may go. Someone will come get you in a couple of hours."
"Understood."
Klaus left the office feeling hollow.
No chains.
No laws binding him.
And still—
He had never felt more like a slave.
A slave to circumstance.To money.To Klara.To the chance of going home.To the chance for revenge.
Slaves didn't get freedom.
But he still had a chance.
If he shoved his pride deep enough.
Egor was already on his way to the bar.
His thoughts kept circling back to Klaus. Something about his behavior had been off ever since the portal.
Klaus had been distant. Distracted. Lost in thought.
And worst of all—
He stopped ordering Egor around.
No more "prepare this," "bring that," "stay close."
It should've been a relief.
Instead, it felt wrong.
"What's going on with you?" Egor muttered to himself.
His grandmother had just shrugged.
"Who knows what's in that boy's head. Probably making something up again."
The evening was warm. A soft spring breeze carried the promise of summer.
Couples walked hand in hand. Families strolled with children. Old people sat by the river, feeding pigeons.
Egor used to love this time of year.
Now he couldn't focus on any of it.
Who even was Klaus to him, that he couldn't stop thinking about him?
He turned the corner—
And saw him.
Klaus stood there, staring at a lit cigarette in his hand.
"You've already changed?" Egor asked.
"Hm? Oh. You're here already?" Klaus said absently.
"What's going on with you? Just tell me."
"I said it's nothing."
Klaus took a drag, winced slightly, then crushed the cigarette under his heel.
"Let's go."
Egor didn't believe him.
But getting the truth out of Klaus was like trying to make a wall talk.
He'd have to find another way.