Egor sat at the kitchen table, slowly sipping hot tea and 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 ordinary days had looked like in his own world? Had coming close to death simply been routine for him?
Judging by the way Klaus calmly devoured baked meat drenched in tomato sauce, apparently it had.
"Hey — pass the pickles. Egor? Are you listening?" Klaus waved a hand in front of his unfocused eyes.
"How can you eat so calmly after what happened?"
"What happened? Oh. Right. You've never seen creatures like that before." He held out his hand expectantly. "So… the pickles?"
Egor shook his head, went to the refrigerator, took out the jar, arranged several pickles on a plate, and set it in front of him.
Pauoka ate quietly, lost in her own thoughts, paying little attention to either of them.
Egor couldn't understand her composure. They could have died today. Didn't that matter?
His gaze drifted around the kitchen.
A dark gray stain spread across the wall above the cabinets. The wood around the sink had rotted from moisture. The linoleum was torn in places, exposing cracked concrete beneath. When Egor leaned against the table, it wobbled.
"Maybe we should renovate," he said suddenly, as casually as if suggesting how to spend a holiday bonus.
Klaus and Pauoka froze mid-bite and stared at him.
"What?" Egor frowned. "Do you enjoy living in a place that's falling apart?"
"Egor… are you feeling all right?" his grandmother asked cautiously. "Perhaps you should rest."
"Yes. Go lie down," Klaus added. "You're in shock. You're talking nonsense."
Egor stared at them in disbelief.
Am I wrong?
Can't we at least fix the apartment? Klaus earns good money… don't they see how bad this place looks?
But something told him not to argue further.
He left his tea unfinished and quietly retreated to his room, feeling their worried gazes on his back.
"I think he had a point," Klaus said after a moment, absentmindedly tearing a piece of bread.
"About the renovation? I wouldn't mind," Pauoka replied. "Perhaps we should let him handle it."
"Yes. He's been shaken by everything. Let him distract himself."
A brief silence followed.
"We need to find the girl who branded him," Pauoka said at last.
"Why?"
"Magic," she answered simply. "It still remains within her. We cannot waste the chance to gather more — if you truly wish to return home."
"That won't be easy. We know nothing about her."
"But we know someone who excels at finding what others cannot. Removing problems. Creating flawless documents."
"You mean your Andryusha?" Klaus raised an eyebrow. "I thought he had already repaid his debt."
"Money may persuade him to reconsider."
"And how much are we talking about?"
"More than the three of us can gather right now."
Klaus stared at his empty plate.
He could not refuse a chance to return home sooner.
And he already knew how to obtain the money.
He simply did not want to admit it.
He had fallen far enough already. Was he truly prepared to fall further?
What were pride, honor, and strength — the values his father had instilled in him since childhood — worth if he never returned home?
Suddenly Egor's face flashed in his mind — flushed, shining with admiration during the fight.
If Klaus did nothing, that weak human might die because of him.
Was that guilt?
Or something else?
Slowly he raised his head.
"I'll get the money," he said at last, his voice heavy. "Find out the exact amount. Leave the rest to me."
Pauoka studied him carefully.
"I hope you're not planning to rob a bank?"
"Don't be absurd. I'll earn it." He raised a hand, stopping further questions. "Please don't ask how. It's nothing criminal. Not exactly to my liking… but I'm prepared to make sacrifices."
"For your return?"
"Yes."
"Very well," she said quietly.
Egor lay in bed until evening.
His mind refused to process the events of the day, drifting instead toward trivial thoughts.
What color cabinets would look best in the kitchen?
Would they have enough money for a full renovation — or only cosmetic repairs?
Why did cats always attach themselves to one person?
Would Grandma allow a dog?
Or perhaps a hamster? A guinea pig?
What was even the point of those?
And those tiny dogs whose eyes always looked ready to pop out from fear…
Gradually his thoughts circled back to the same place.
If he joined a gym, could he become as strong as Klaus?
Was there some online course that could teach courage?
How soon would Klaus leave?
Would they have time to renovate before that happened?
A sports jacket dissolving in venom flashed through his mind.
What if the poison had touched Klaus's skin?
He could have died.
Because of Egor.
"Are you awake?" came a low voice.
Egor opened his eyes sharply.
"Sorry. I took your bed," Klaus said with an awkward chuckle. "Or rather… my bed that you shamelessly claimed."
"It's fine. You can stay."
Klaus stepped over the rolled mattress on the floor — Egor's usual sleeping place — grabbed a pillow, and lay down beside him. The narrow bed forced them close together.
"I'm sorry about today," Klaus said quietly. The apology sounded unfamiliar on his lips. "The brand. The spider. It was meant for me. But everything fell on you."
Egor stared at him in shock.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm trying to apologize."
"I just… didn't expect to hear that from you."
A faint smile touched Klaus's lips as he stared at the ceiling.
Egor found himself studying his profile — the straight nose, long lashes, sharply defined lips, the black crescent-shaped tattoo on his temple.
"What do your tattoos mean?" he asked, reaching out without thinking.
Klaus instinctively caught his wrist and held it for a moment before releasing it.
"They're like passports," he said. "Marks of status. Family crests."
"Even slaves?"
"Yes. But slaves are branded on the arm or leg. A circle around the family crest — one circle for low rank, two for middle rank, three for high. Sometimes additional symbols are added: a jug for a master potter, an eye for a search mage, a lily for one trained in… certain arts."
Egor swallowed.
"And nobles?"
"They must bear the clan crest on their face."
He touched his temple.
"Do you believe me now?"
"After today? I don't really have a choice."
They both smiled.
"So. The renovation," Klaus said suddenly.
"What?"
"You were right. This place is hardly livable."
"Wait — renovation? We have bigger problems!"
"We'll deal with those. You stay out of it."
"I won't," Egor protested. "The brand is on me. I won't hide while you risk your life again."
"You're weak."
"I know! But I'll try to be useful. That's better than leaving everything to you — or to Grandma."
Klaus studied him in silence.
"You are weak," he said bluntly. "But you're right. The brand will draw danger to you. It's better if I stay nearby."
"I don't want you risking your life again."
Klaus smirked and ruffled his hair.
"Relax. Protecting one's property is a master's duty."
Egor couldn't even bring himself to be offended.
Later, Klaus stood outside Klara's office, rubbing his thigh through his pocket.
He had made his decision.
He simply hadn't yet found the strength to say it aloud.
Pauoka had learned the price from her contact. It was higher than expected — half in advance, half afterward.
They did not even have the first half.
Klaus drew a deep breath and knocked three times.
"Come in."
He stepped inside.
"I agree," he said quietly.
"Excuse me?"
"I accept your offer."
Klara's smile widened.
"I knew you were sensible. When can you start?"
"As soon as possible."
"Excellent. Training begins tonight."
"Fine."
He left feeling hollow.
No chains bound him in this world.
No laws declared him a slave.
And yet he had never felt more like one.
A slave to money.
To circumstance.
To Klara.
To the hope of returning home.
He could free himself — if only he buried his pride deeply enough.
That evening Egor found him outside, staring at a lit cigarette.
"You've already changed?"
"Hm? Oh. You're here."
"What's going on?" Egor asked.
"Nothing."
Klaus took a drag, winced slightly, and crushed the cigarette beneath his heel.
"Shall we?"
Egor didn't believe him.
But getting the truth out of Klaus was like trying to make a wall speak.
He would have to find another way.