He, on the other hand, looked like someone straight out of a movie—or maybe a magazine ad. Lean, well-groomed, with a perfect fade haircut that must have taken a professional's hand. His hair had that matte, sculpted look, probably held in place with something that made it immune to the wind; not a single strand dared to move. The short sleeves of his T-shirt stretched snugly across well-defined arms. The only thing that stood out from his polished appearance was his pale skin—untouched by the sun. For a fleeting moment I thought he might be an albino, like Lisa, though the rest of his features didn't quite match. Still, something about him reminded me of her, though I couldn't have said exactly what.
"No," I said aloud, shaking my head. "I'm more of a code guy. Sports aren't really my thing. What about you? You look like someone who lives in the gym."
Ildar smirked. When Svetozar bounded back to him, tail wagging and frisbee clamped proudly in his jaws, Ildar bent down to take the disk, then sent it sailing through the air again with a smooth flick of his wrist.
"You could say that," he replied, watching the frisbee cut through the sunlight. "I like working with cars."
I let out a low whistle.
"Nice. For a living, or just as a hobby?"
"As a passion," he said, his lips curling into a wide grin. "When I can find the time. My girlfriend and I moved to Moscow not long ago. We haven't really settled in yet—first the exams, then all the university paperwork, the apartment hunt… by the end of summer we were both completely drained. I just wanted a little break before the semester starts. I'm doing fine now, but my girlfriend's struggling with her studies—terrified of losing her scholarship, and she absolutely refuses to take my help. Piled on so many extra assignments, she's drowning in them. Once she found out there's a library here, she basically moved in. Keeps writing, reading, scribbling notes all day. So I'm the one walking her dog solo now. You can imagine—free time doesn't exist. If I'd known it'd turn out like this, I'd have dragged her to St. Petersburg instead, taken her through all the museums, the theaters, the restaurants. Too late now, though. Missed my chance."
"Then why pick a glamping park if you wanted, you know, 'feasts and festivities'?" I asked, making air quotes. I genuinely couldn't wrap my head around his choice. Lisa and I had come here seeking peace and quiet. I'd hoped that the calm atmosphere would help her process everything that had happened, to grieve properly, to open up again—to feel. Yet, a nagging thought crept up on me. Maybe Lisa was doing exactly what Ildar's girlfriend was doing—burying herself in work, skipping meals, forgetting to rest, and, inevitably, forgetting me.
I wondered if the two of them had already met. Who knows—maybe two desperate workaholics, each drowning out the echoes of their own pain with endless busyness, would find in each other something familiar. A kind of unspoken understanding between those who can't stand the sound of their own emotions.
Ildar stared ahead, lost in thought. The dog was sprinting toward his "stand-in" master, kicking up little sprays of dirt with each bounding step. Svetozar's floppy ears bounced in rhythm, as if they lived a separate life from the rest of him.
"I just thought," Ildar began after a pause, "that if Yesenia spent some time somewhere that reminded her of home, it might help her come to terms with things. She doesn't handle failure well. Keeps it all bottled up. Walks around thinking, overthinking… winding herself tighter and tighter."
His sudden openness caught me off guard. Two guys who'd just met, talking about their partners like this—especially about their feelings—wasn't something I'd seen before.
And even more surprising—neither of us had a drop of alcohol in our system.
After that, I couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with Ildar.
"Too bad you couldn't distract her," I said, trying to sound upbeat before my new acquaintance sank any deeper into gloom. "But who knows—maybe it's for the best?"
It wasn't hard to understand what he was going through; I'd been circling around Lisa much the same way, constantly wondering how else I could help. But sometimes—whether we like it or not—the only thing we can do is stay close, ready to offer a shoulder when it's finally asked for. I could've told Ildar that right then, but what was the point, when I was barely following that advice myself?
On the way to the main building, Ildar taught me how to throw the frisbee for Svetozar. The dog tore after the spinning disk with pure joy, leaping and snapping at it midair—and, to my surprise, managed to catch it a few times. By the time we reached the foot of the stairs and were debating how to pry the beloved toy from the stubborn creature's jaws, the owner of the glamping park appeared on the porch.
"No dogs inside," she said coolly, lifting her sharp chin.
"Really? Then why does your website say this place is dog-friendly?" Ildar asked with affected politeness, still tugging at the edge of the frisbee, which Svetozar refused to surrender.
"It means," she replied crisply, "that we're willing to accommodate guests with dogs—for an additional cleaning fee. But letting one across the threshold of a house where every object has its own history and value? I'm afraid that's out of the question."
"Then could you at least keep an eye on him?" Ildar asked. "We just need to run to the reading room and fetch our girlfriends."
"Pfft. Girlfriends," the woman repeated with a pointed sneer, clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Now, if you were fetching brides, that'd be another matter entirely. Girlfriends can wait outside."
What an old hag, honestly.
"Well," Ildar said cheerfully, unbothered, "today she's my girlfriend, but tomorrow—who knows?—she might just be my fiancée." He stopped wrestling with the dog and, grinning, fished a small ring from the pocket of his jeans. "I actually planned to propose on this trip. Just haven't found the right moment yet."
The woman blinked, frowning as she descended a few steps toward us, moving surprisingly nimbly for her age. Squinting, she tried to get a better look at the ring but couldn't make out the details. With a commanding gesture, she held out her palm, fingers spread, motioning for Ildar to hand it over. Eventually, he sighed and placed the ring into her waiting hand.
She examined it closely, turning it in the light as though appraising a gemstone at an auction.
"Not bad," she murmured finally. "Though the stone could stand to be bigger. Your young lady's fingers aren't exactly what I'd call delicate."
Ildar's smile cracked for a split second, and I barely managed to suppress a laugh, knowing exactly how that comment must have stung. In his place, I would've been fuming—boiling over with the kind of quiet rage that comes only when someone insults the person you'd defend to the very end.
"Will you keep an eye on him now?" Ildar asked, summoning all his composure and pasting his polite smile back in place. "He's a good boy."
The owner returned the ring carelessly and gave the dog a long, skeptical look.
"I have my doubts," she said flatly.
"You just need to get to know him better. Look at those eyes—he's practically human!"
And indeed, the dog's gaze was strangely human. Too human. The realization sent an uneasy chill crawling down my spine. I'd never seen an animal look like that before—with recognition, understanding, almost… awareness. At times, it even seemed that Svetozar was simply waiting for his turn to join the conversation, if only someone would let him speak. The thought was unnerving. It made me view him differently, as though peering into something that shouldn't be.
Better not to think about it at all. That kind of thinking can turn a man vegetarian—and farewell to gas-station hot dogs forever.
And if there was one thing I wasn't ready to give up, it was definitely my favorite guilty pleasures.
The hostess fell silent for a while, and I frantically began inventing ways to persuade her. To my surprise, though, she softened.
"Do you have a leash?"
"Of course."
She gave a satisfied nod and pointed toward the wooden railing by the stairs.
"Tie the dog there. I'll keep an eye on him—for today, at least. After all, it's quite a pleasant day outside."
After a bit of coaxing to be a truly good boy, Svetozar finally lay down at the foot of the stairs, letting out a weary sigh that puffed out his droopy jowls. They flapped comically with each exhale, and I couldn't help but find it ridiculously charming. If Svetozar really was a bad boy, then he certainly had enough charm to make anyone forgive him for it.
"Do you know the way?" Ildar asked as we climbed the steps to the reception desk, and I blinked at him in disbelief.
"No, how would I? I only arrived yesterday. I stumbled across the library by accident while looking for the front desk—that's the only reason I even know it exists."
Ildar cast a glance at the massive wooden counter near the entrance.
"Well, there it is," he said, gesturing at it.
"Thanks, Sherlock. We've already covered that."
"Right, forgot," he chuckled. "My memory's about as good as a goldfish's, you see?"
I moved uncertainly across the large hall, where those cursed mounted eyes still hung, and kept my gaze low. I wasn't ready to face the unsettling associations they stirred in me all over again.
"So how long have you been staying here? A week?"
"Something like that," Ildar said, walking beside me and waving his hand vaguely in the air. "Maybe closer to two."
"And you still don't know the way, even though your girlfriend visits the library every now and then?"
"You know, there's global topographical idiocy, and then there's the miniature version. I was born with the second one," he said solemnly, "even though I grew up in a big house."
I grinned, glancing at him with amusement. That was the kind of joke I'd expect from someone in my line of work, not from him, and his choice of words genuinely delighted me.
"Well then, looks like there are two of us. I'm hopeless without a map. If I'm outside, my phone's navigation can still save me, but once I step indoors without signs or a guide—forget it."
Ildar let out a dramatic sigh and threw up his hands, as if accepting our shared fate.
"Then we'll just have to wander around until we find the girls."
"Or until they start to worry and come looking for us."
"…And that second option's a lot more likely."
"Sadly," I admitted, "I can't argue with that."