Klaus dragged Egor home, the young man hanging limp over his shoulder, mumbling nonsense.
When Klaus had returned to the bar, he'd found him completely wasted—face buried in his folded arms while Mia slowly stroked his hair. Their table had filled with strangers Klaus didn't recognize.
He sat down beside her and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
"When did he manage to get this drunk?"
"The moment you left, he lost it," Mia shrugged. "You shouldn't have left him here. You know… you really are a cruel bastard."
"Me?" Klaus raised an eyebrow. "I told him I'd be back. He's not a child who needs babysitting." His gaze slid to her hand still buried in Egor's hair. "Though I see you're making progress."
"It's not like that," she said, her smile tight. "I was trying to calm him down. He just passed out. I never had a chance."
"He just doesn't understand his own luck," Klaus said lightly. "I'm sure you'll manage."
"No," Mia cut in. "He's already completely gone."
Klaus paused.
"Gone?"
"In love."
A brief silence.
"Did he tell you that?"
"He didn't have to."
Klaus let out a quiet breath.
"Well. Then at least you tried."
Mia looked at him for a long moment.
"You really are an idiot."
"Running out of arguments?" Klaus smirked faintly. "Don't dump your problems on me. I can't make him want you. And honestly… what's so special about that feeling anyway?"
Mia shook her head.
"Just take him home. Clara gave us tomorrow off."
"Thanks for watching him," Klaus said, rising. "And… good luck. I wouldn't mind if someone like you stayed by his side."
Mia didn't answer.
Klaus hauled Egor upright and dragged him toward the exit.
"Hey—get off…" Egor slurred, weakly pushing at him.
"Relax. It's me. You've had enough." Klaus adjusted his grip. "The old woman's going to have a stroke when she sees you like this."
"Klaus…? I thought you wouldn't come back…"
"How could I leave you?" Klaus said quietly, almost amused, as Egor went completely slack against him.
Egor woke to harsh sunlight flooding the room.
Didn't close the curtains.
Then—
he wasn't on the floor.
He was in his bed.
He forced his eyes open. His head felt like it had been split apart. His mouth was dry, his stomach twisting.
He had never been this drunk.
He barely drank at all.
He pushed himself upright and looked down.
The bedding on the floor—gone.
Not even laid out.
Klaus wasn't there.
I overslept.
He left.
Didn't even say goodbye.
The panic hit instantly—sharp, suffocating, swallowing everything else.
Egor lurched to his feet. The room spun violently, but he didn't stop. Pants. Door. Corridor.
Voices.
From the kitchen.
Alive.
Klaus was still here.
Relief slammed into him just as hard.
He exhaled and staggered toward the bathroom.
"You're up," Klaus smirked. "How's your head?"
"Very funny," Egor muttered, pouring coffee with shaking hands, digging through the medicine cabinet.
"I think alcohol and you are a terrible combination," Klaus went on. "I barely got you home. And getting you into bed was a nightmare. You're violent when you're drunk, by the way."
Egor flushed.
He remembered nothing after collapsing at the bar.
Just fragments.
Klaus leaving with Sasha—
and something inside him snapping.
Drink after drink.
Words spilling out.
Mia.
Her voice.
Her almost-confession.
And him—
thinking only about himself.
One thing stuck.
Her words.
If you want something—take it. Earn it. Steal it. Fight for it.
Easy.
If you actually knew what you wanted.
Egor shoved the thought away and looked at Klaus.
"Well, boys, I'm heading to the store," Pauoka said, standing. "Need to pick up a few things."
Egor watched her leave.
"You slept on the floor?" he asked suddenly.
Klaus snorted.
"As if. I didn't bother making your bedding. Too much trouble. I put you next to me instead." A pause. "You didn't let me sleep at all. Where the hell did you get that much energy after drinking like that?"
Egor stiffened.
"Did I… do anything?"
"What exactly do you think you did?" Klaus frowned slightly. "You just kept moving. Tossing around. Throwing your arms and legs over me like you were trying to strangle me in your sleep."
Egor let out a slow breath.
At least he hadn't said anything.
Hadn't exposed himself.
"You know," Egor said after a moment, "I've been meaning to ask you something. That day—after the possession—I saw something in your hand. Like ball lightning. What was that?"
"Oh. That." Klaus leaned back. "Remember the guy in the parking lot? The stun gun?"
Egor nodded.
"I felt a trace of magic then. When they chained me up, electricity was the only option. The wire from the lamp was within reach. So I took it."
"Are you out of your mind?" Egor snapped. "That could've killed you!"
"But it didn't," Klaus said calmly. "I'm a lightning mage. You really think an electric discharge would kill me?" A pause. "The real problem was that I burned through everything. Every last scrap of magic."
"And the hole in your side had nothing to do with it?"
"I've had worse," Klaus shrugged. "And I always recovered. In your world, I've turned into a weakling."
Silence.
"Running out of magic like that, though…" he added, quieter. "That's dangerous. That's what put me under." He glanced at Egor. "But I'm fine now. Fully restored."
A beat.
"And ready to go back."
Back.
Today.
Klaus was leaving.
The thought clenched around Egor's chest so hard it hurt to breathe.
He couldn't speak.
So he didn't.
He drank his coffee instead.
"How was your… goodbye with your benefactor?" he asked, forcing indifference.
Klaus smirked.
"Better than I expected."
And just like that—
his mind betrayed him.
Klaus.
Pressed against a wall.
Someone else's hands on him.
Clothes coming off.
Fingers sliding under fabric.
A belt unfastened.
Skin.
Breath.
Stop.
Egor shut his eyes, jaw tightening.
"I see," he said quietly.
"And how was your evening with Mia?" Klaus asked. "Before you drank yourself unconscious."
"With Mia?" Egor blinked. "She's… she's great, really, but I just—"
He stopped.
Klaus nodded.
Understanding.
That was worse.
The silence stayed.
All the way to goodbye.
A few hours later, Pauoka returned.
Dried meat. Cigarettes. Supplies.
Everything she thought he'd need.
She had even arranged clothes—ordered in advance.
Leather trousers. High boots. Shirts. A rough jacket—something close to light armor.
She packed everything carefully.
"You're thorough," Klaus said, surprised. "I didn't even think about how your clothes would look back home." He glanced at himself in the mirror. "Comfortable boots."
"Take this too." She handed him foundation matching his skin.
He raised an eyebrow.
"To hide the tattoos. Or were you planning to announce your return to everyone?"
"I was thinking of a hood," Klaus admitted. "This is better."
Egor watched from a distance.
Detached.
Like none of this was real.
Maybe it was the hangover.
Or maybe—
he just refused to accept it.
The doorbell rang.
Klaus and Pauoka were busy. Egor went to open it.
Professor Skotsky stood outside.
"Good evening. Your brother hasn't left yet, has he?"
"No. Should I call him?"
"No need." He handed him a white envelope. "Give him this. But only after he's gone. However he plans to travel."
"All right."
"Not before you say goodbye," the professor added, his pale eyes glinting. "He mustn't read it too soon."
Egor nodded.
The door closed.
Questions lingered.
An hour later, they stood before the portal.
Klaus was dressed in the fashion of his world. Katana at his side. Tattoos hidden.
Pauoka placed her heavy bag on the ground and took the small bluish sphere.
"Ready?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Thank you," Klaus said quietly. "For everything. It was… fortunate, meeting someone from home in another world."
"Enough," she cut him off, smiling faintly. "Or I'll fall apart. Stay yourself to the end, you little bastard—otherwise I won't let you go."
For a moment—
he gave in.
Pulled her into a tight embrace.
Then stepped back.
Held out his hand to Egor.
Egor didn't take it.
He stepped forward—
and wrapped his arms around Klaus's neck.
Held him.
Too tight.
Breathing him in.
One last time.
Klaus hesitated—then awkwardly patted his shoulder and pulled away.
"One more thing," Egor said, handing him the envelope. "Read it… on the other side."
"Good luck."
Pauoka lifted the sphere, drawing the magic into herself.
Light burst outward—
a blinding white portal forming before them.
"Take care of yourself, Klaus Deffender," she said. "And fix that rotten country. I think you can."
Klaus nodded.
Stepped forward—
into the light.
And disappeared.
Silence.
"Grandma…"
A tear slipped down Egor's cheek.
Pauoka stepped closer, resting a hand on his head.
"I was ready to say goodbye to you as well," she said quietly. "I thought you would follow him."
Egor looked at her through blurred vision.
At the woman who had raised him.
Who had been his whole world.
"And you?"
She scoffed softly.
"That arrogant boy left me a fortune. Do you really think I'm helpless?"
"No… I didn't mean that." He hesitated. "Then… could you…?"
Hope flickered—
and died.
She shook her head.
"With what I have left? No. If I were younger, maybe. I'd collapse for a few hours and recover. Now…" She exhaled. "I might not even manage to open it."
Egor reached into his pocket.
Pulled out the bluish sphere.
"And with this?"
She stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
"The day Klaus almost died. I took it from the puppeteer. There was only one."
A pause.
Then—
a small, knowing smile.
"Then you should change," she said, opening her bag.
"I told you."
"I was ready to let you go."