Egor wandered the city without direction.
He tried to push Klaus's unreadable face out of his mind.
It didn't work.
"Damn it… I'm so sick of this. Why did I even agree to help him? Because of Grandma?" he muttered, kicking a crumpled napkin across the pavement.
It wasn't even one in the afternoon.
Going home wasn't an option.
The renovation was still tearing the apartment apart — noise, dust, Pauoka's questions.
No.
He couldn't deal with that.
Not now.
He bought a vanilla ice cream in a waffle cone and drifted into the park.
Cyclists cut past him.
Skateboards rattled over concrete.
People laughed.
Talked.
Lived.
The world hadn't stopped.
Only he had.
Egor dropped onto a bench in the shade and stared at the melting ice cream.
He wasn't hungry.
He bit into it anyway.
"May I sit here?"
He looked up.
A short red-haired girl stood beside him. Freckles covered her face — even her hands.
"Yeah… sure."
She smiled, sat down, opened a book.
Silence.
Five minutes.
Maybe more.
"Your ice cream's about to fall," she said casually.
Egor blinked—
Too late.
The scoop slid off and hit the pavement between his sneakers.
"…Perfect."
He threw the cone away.
"Something wrong?" she asked, closing the book and stuffing it into a large canvas bag.
"It's nothing," he muttered. "Just… thinking too much."
"I'm Nika." She held out her hand.
"Egor."
Her grip was warm.
Firm.
Too firm.
"You don't look busy," she said lightly. "Want to go somewhere?"
He frowned.
"Relax," she laughed. "I'm not going to kidnap you. Just trying to cheer you up."
"Where?"
"You'll see."
She stood.
Held out her hand again.
Egor hesitated.
Something felt off.
A faint pressure in his chest.
Wrong.
But—
he took it.
They left the park.
Turned into residential blocks.
The further they walked—
the quieter it became.
Too quiet.
"Where are we going?" Egor asked.
"Almost there," she said brightly.
They entered a courtyard boxed in by tall buildings.
Empty.
No voices.
No movement.
Egor slowed.
"Listen… I should probably go. I've got things to—"
"We're already here."
Her grip tightened.
Hard.
Too hard.
"Hey!" she called toward a half-open basement door. "I brought him!"
The door creaked open.
A man stepped out.
Unshaven.
Eyes—
wrong.
Egor jerked his hand.
Nothing.
Her fingers locked around him like metal.
She turned to him.
Smiling.
But not the same smile.
Too wide.
Too still.
Empty.
Cold slid down his spine.
More people emerged.
One after another.
A businessman in a perfect suit.
A teenager in sports gear.
An old man.
A butcher with a bloodstained apron, a cleaver still wet in his hand.
More.
More.
Too many.
Egor stopped counting.
Their eyes—
all the same.
"She used a different name," Nika said mockingly. "And he's weak. I could've handled him myself."
She laughed.
High.
Sharp.
Unstable.
Klaus.
The thought hit hard.
He's not here.
I'm alone.
Run.
Egor twisted.
Kicked.
Tried to wrench free.
Even tried to bite her hand.
Nothing worked.
Her grip didn't even loosen.
The circle closed.
No gaps.
No way out.
He stopped fighting.
Because there was nowhere to go.
Something sharp pressed into his neck—
A sting.
Cold spreading instantly.
Too fast—
too fast—
Darkness flooded in.
I wish you were here—
Everything went black.
Klaus stood in their room, staring at the jeans Egor had forced him to buy.
Light blue.
Ripped.
Pointless.
"You're insane," he had said. "Paying that much for torn fabric?"
"It's fashion! And ventilation!" Egor had laughed, sticking his hand through the hole in the knee.
"They protect nothing."
"They look good on you."
Klaus exhaled.
Pulled them on.
"…Maybe he'll stop arguing."
In an hour, Prokhorov's driver would arrive.
Dinner.
Conversation.
"No additional services."
Klaus almost smiled.
Right.
Still—
the money mattered.
One last payment.
For Pauoka.
For Egor.
Then he was done.
He would leave.
Go home.
And deal with those who tried to kill him.
The drive took nearly ninety minutes.
Klaus sat in silence, checking his phone now and then.
Nothing.
What was he expecting?
An apology?
Understanding?
They were different.
In every possible way.
Still—
the further they drove—
the tighter something twisted inside his chest.
What if something happens?
He shut the thought down.
Hard.
Let him deal with it himself.
Just this once.
The house came into view.
White stone.
Glass.
Open space.
Beautiful.
Completely defenseless.
In his world, it would be taken within hours.
"I'm glad you came," Alexander said warmly.
"It's my job."
Alexander stepped forward, arms open—
Klaus stopped him with a handshake.
Inside—
tasteful.
Expensive.
Controlled.
They ate in a glass-walled extension.
Forest stretching beyond.
Too calm.
"Feels like an aquarium," Klaus said.
"That's the point."
Strangely—
he relaxed.
As long as Alexander kept his distance.
They talked.
Ate.
Time slipped.
For a moment—
Klaus forgot everything.
Then—
drinks.
"No alcohol," Klaus said.
"Of course."
He took a sip.
Paused.
Something—
wrong.
Heat hit instantly.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
His pulse spiked.
Breathing shifted.
Shallow.
Hot.
"What did you put in this?" Klaus asked, voice already lower.
"Something to help you relax."
Rage flared.
Clear.
Sharp.
But his body—
didn't care.
It reacted.
Immediate.
Violent.
Heat pooling low.
Demanding release.
"Cold water," Klaus said, forcing the words out.
"I know something better."
Hands.
Close.
Too close.
Every touch burned.
Electric.
"Stop," Klaus said.
Too quiet.
Too weak.
He grabbed Alexander's wrist.
Tried to push him away—
but his own body betrayed him.
Muscles tight.
Breath uneven.
Skin hypersensitive.
His shirt hit the floor.
He didn't remember taking it off.
His head fell back.
He hated it.
Understood it.
Needed it—
at the same time.
The phone rang.
He ignored it.
Again.
Annoyance—
then he saw the name.
Egor.
Everything snapped back.
He answered.
"Klaus—thank God! There are too many—twenty—maybe more—they're all possessed—I got away but I don't know how long—"
"Where are you?"
Fast.
Fragmented.
Panicked.
"Can you get home?"
"No. I'm hiding. Basement. I'm scared."
Klaus was already moving.
Belt.
Jeans.
Focus locking in.
"Stay there," he said sharply. "Don't move. I'll be there."
"How long?!"
"I'm outside the city."
"Please—"
"Stay hidden."
He hung up.
Alexander stared at him.
"We're done," Klaus said. "I need your driver. Now. And a weapon."
"A weapon?"
"My brother is in danger."
A pause.
Then—
movement.
Knives.
Useless.
"Something better."
A short sword.
Decorative.
But real.
Klaus tested the edge.
"Good enough."
At the door—
Alexander grabbed him.
Kissed him.
Under normal circumstances—
Klaus would have broken his jaw.
This time—
he didn't.
For a second—
he responded.
Then pulled away.
"I'll return the sword."
And left.
In the car—
Klaus stared ahead.
Every second mattered now.
He had to get to Egor.
Again.
This is the last time.
After this—
he disappears.
They deserve a normal life.
And he—
only brings danger.