“Why don’t you want to sell this apartment?” the real estate agent asks, surprised.

“And why should I?” the elderly owner of the flat counters with a smirk.

“They’re offering you an enormous amount of money for it. About three times the market value. Forgive my bluntness, but it’s time for you to think about enjoying the rest of your life.”

“No one knows how much longer I have to live. You certainly don’t,” the old woman dismisses her confidently, without a trace of irritation, though the conversation has been unpleasant from the first word.

“At least consider the offers,” the agent suggests, more calmly.

“These people?” she looks skeptically at the young couple near the front door.

“This pair offered the least exorbitant amount of all the ones we voiced. The unvoiced amounts are even higher. And not just three times the value,” she hints with a sly look at the astronomical offers and the old woman’s refusal to the young couple.

“Why does everyone want this apartment?” the old woman looks out the window indifferently.

“It contains something for which many are willing to pay a fortune.”

“It also contains something that is more precious to me than what everyone wants.”

“Are we talking about different things?” the agent clarifies the direction of the old woman’s thoughts and values.

“Everyone wants this,” the grey-haired woman points to an unusual, wall-sized painting.

“The last work of a very famous artist from the last century. Some believe it was created after his death. They say the mystical painting absorbed his soul.”

“Is that a value?” the old woman looks calmly at the picture. “I don’t believe in fairy tales about magical paintings. Or in the stupid notion that the soul exists. How many soulful people have you seen?”

“Fine,” the young agent suppresses her anger at the owner’s flagrant ignorance. “Tell me, what is so special about this apartment for you?”

“Special,” she smiles, shifting her gaze to the floor, the interior doors, to the agent, and out the window. “My entire life was spent here with a man who is more important to me than all the most outstanding artists in the world and all the money they’re offering me. If someone’s, as you say, soul remained here, it’s his. Other men have never interested me like that. And they won’t. Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I’ll tell you how it all happened,” she pours tea.

“I absolutely don’t have time for this,” the agent protests, pushing the cup away.

“Don’t you want this apartment?” the elderly owner hints persistently.

“I do,” she softens and lowers her tone, returning to the tea.

“In that case, drink your tea,” she slides the cup closer to the young woman.

“I’ll be just a second,” she walks over to the young couple waiting for a decision.

“Did it work?” the young man from the couple who offered the minimum-maximum price asks.

“Not yet,” the agent reports optimistically.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” the young woman asks, afraid of missing out on the precious opportunity, which could later fetch a fabulous sum.

“Don’t wait. I’ll contact you when everything is settled. Go home and wait for my call.”

“All right,” the young people reluctantly agree. They’re ready to sleep on the doorstep just to get their hands on the treasure with windows and doors. “Be sure to call us when everything is figured out!”

“Goodbye,” she sees the young couple out of the apartment with a dry phrase.

“Is everything all right?” the sweet old woman asks with a smile, sitting on a little sofa upholstered in burgundy velvet with a cup of tea, looking at the real estate agent’s nervous expression.

“They’re all settled,” she smiles, controlling her true emotions. “Tell me your story!”

“You’re in luck. I remember everything just as vividly as I see you. Although, my memories are more real to me than your presence. Listen carefully. Then you decide whether or not to sell this apartment.”

“Well, darling, shall we start?” Luter asks me. My husband.

“Start what?” I ask back, utterly unable to recall what I’m supposed to remember.

“Did you really forget what we agreed on a week ago?” he drops his hands, which hold a brush and a can of white paint, in disappointment.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I remember the agreement, turning to my husband. “My memory’s completely tangled up in a mess of thoughts about everything at once.” Moving into this apartment threw me off.

“It’s nothing,” Luter tries not to show how upset he is.

“Okay! I don’t understand, where’s my brush?” I ask in a serious tone, looking for any paintbrush. I’m ready to paint with my bare hands just to avoid upsetting my husband.

“Take mine!” Luter brightens up at my enthusiasm.

“What about you? Which one will you use?” I can’t deprive the person who started all this of his main joy.

“I have another one. It’s just as good,” he pulls a second brush from a cardboard box filled with metal cans. Paint streaks on each can indicate the color inside.

“That’s wonderful!” I’m happy that my love’s mood is lifting. “Did you finally settle on white paint?”

“We’ll start with white, and then we’ll add colors based on our mood and impressions.”

“Great idea!” I kiss his still-clean cheek and take the can of paint from his hands. “Did you get the solvent and rags?” the question sounds more like a checklist.

“I did,” he shows me the bottle of solvent and pulls an old pillowcase from the box—it’s stained with every possible color, even ones that aren’t here.

“What should we paint?” I stand ready, brush in hand, looking for a target.

“Let’s start with the doors, and we’ll see from there.”

“All right, let’s begin,” I reply, drawing the brush across the slightly wavy surface of the bare wood.

“What is that?” Luter is surprised and scared at the same time.

“I wish I knew,” I drop the brush onto the floor and step back. The single stroke of white paint transforms into a red stripe under the pressure of the brush.

“Maybe they used this brush for red paint before?” my husband suggests, picking up the brush.

“There wasn’t a single drop of red on the bristles,” I'm sure of every word. “Look closely.”

“No, not a single red drop,” Luter examines the white paint on the brush, comparing it to the red stripe on the door panel, which fades out toward the bottom. “It’s definitely white paint in the can.”

“Tell me what this means,” I plead, desperate for him to dispel the fear gradually rising in my chest.

“I don’t know,” he admits in a whisper. He approaches cautiously and sniffs the drying paint on the door. “Let’s postpone this until another day,” he puts the brushes and the can of white paint back into the box.

“I don’t think I’ll want to continue,” without looking at the door, I pull Luter toward the other room.

“Go on, I’ll be with you soon,” he says calmly, kissing my hand.

“What about you?” I don’t know what I'm more afraid of: staying alone or leaving Luter by himself with the inexplicable thing.

“Go,” he gently insists on his decision.

“Fine,” I walk into the next room, leaving the clean wooden door ajar. I stand a few steps from the doorway. I listen carefully.

“Why here?” Luter whispers, indignant. “Why ruin our lives?” he questions the emptiness, taking the heavy door off its hinges. The wooden corner thuds against the floor. “I won’t let you ruin our lives. Enough of all this! I won’t allow it!” the anger, compressed into a whisper, sounds no louder than the church bells on the edge of the city. “Get out of our house!” the silence sharply cracks with the sound of the door panels shattering beneath the window. Thankfully, we are the only ones living in the whole house. All the neighbors moved out long before we relocated. No one complains.

“Luter,” I call in a low voice. “Come here, I’m scared.”

“I’m coming, darling,” he opens the unpainted door and looks at me. It’s a good thing; he didn’t notice. A red stripe of the same shape and in the same spot has also appeared on this door.

“Sit down,” I run my palm across the velvet next to me. He needs to calm down a bit now. “Did you knock anyone over with the door?” I try to lighten the tension with a joke.

“Possibly,” he looks seriously through the closed door and into this room.

“Who?” I ask a little more seriously, expecting the worst.

“A fly was passing by at the wrong moment. It caught the brunt of it,” the nervous tension gives way to laughter and a relaxed embrace.

“Let’s not leave the room today,” I suggest, looking out the window, which is now devoid of daylight.

“The day passed so quickly,” Luter says in surprise, peering closer. “It took us a whole day just to make one stripe with a brush. And to throw out that wretched door.”

“I thought it hadn’t been more than half an hour,” I look at the window and at Luter, puzzled.

“That’s right. It couldn’t have been more than that.” “I think it’s brightening up,” sunlight flows across the glass, flooding the room. “Come on, let’s go look,” he pulls me after him.

“A solar eclipse!” I exclaim with relief. The stress didn’t allow us to enjoy the rare phenomenon. We didn’t even notice the darkness swallowing the sun. “Everyday life is already managing to deprive us of something wonderful,” I say my thoughts aloud, almost joking.

“Are you suggesting we just leave everything as it is?” he looks into my eyes, accepting defeat from the apartment after the first attempt to transform it.

“Yes. It’s not bad as is,” Luter looks at the walls differently.

“All right, I'm perfectly happy with everything. What’s that?” he draws attention to the door, which has opened slightly while we were looking out the window.

“What are you talking about?” I want to shield the red stripe that appeared without a brush.

“Tell me you see it too, or I’ll think I’ve finally lost it.”

“Yes, darling, I see it,” I don’t want Luter to go crazy from the truth. “I thought you knew where they came from.”

“I’m not sure,” he walks decisively toward the door. “Nothing should destroy our happiness and peace!” he takes the second door off its hinges. He carries it to the balcony and throws it onto the previous one. The cracking of wood is complemented by the sound of boards and splinters flying apart.

“Maybe you should tell me about it?” I cautiously peek into his eyes, which are full of worry and helpless anger.

“I hope I won’t have to tell you anything,” he removes the remaining doors and sends them down to join the first two. Identical red stripes appear on the unpainted boards as they fall.

“What did the paint smell like when you sniffed it?” I don’t want to bother my husband any more than necessary, but I’ll feel calmer knowing what’s going on with us.

“Not like paint,” he answers in a whisper, his intonation marking a period. “Let’s take a little walk and see how the eclipse scared people,” he puts on a light jacket right over his worn work clothes. He hands me my jacket.

“Are you going out dressed like that?” My clothes are even worse. The fabric is so old that holes appear on it by themselves.

“Not ‘am I going’, but ‘are we going’,” he corrects my surprised question. “And not ‘are we going’, but ‘we are going’,” he helps me put on the jacket, pulls a hat over my head, and pushes me out of the apartment.

“But I’m dressed like this,” I protest weakly, adjusting the hat.

“No one will see,” he locks the door and rushes down the stairs.

“But you just said we’re going to look at people’s reaction to the solar eclipse,” I remind him of the words he spoke a minute ago.

“What people?” he asks in surprise. “Did you forget where we live?” he laughs as he descends. “It’s just us and a couple of raccoons in the vicinity. Who’s keeping who company as a neighbor is still up for debate. It’s nice outside,” he breathes in the fresh, warm autumn air. “We should go for walks more often; we’re always cooped up in the apartment.”

“We just moved in,” I remind him of the known fact. “And this weather won’t last forever.”

“That’s why we need to go for walks more often. We’ll try to catch as many fine days as possible. And what about the weather? Do you think I won’t drag you out for a walk in the rain and snow?” Luter smirks.

“That’s what I’m afraid of—that you will drag me out,” I won’t say I don’t like rain and snow, but it’s cozier inside the apartment in that kind of weather.

“You’ve summoned the rain!” he comes up from behind and sprinkles yellow and red leaves on me.

“That turned out to be a leafy rain,” I catch a red leaf. It reminds me of the paint on the door. I immediately toss it aside. I don’t do it too abruptly, so Luter doesn’t catch the association. I don’t want to remind him of what we left the apartment to get away from.

“The rain took a long time to gather,” he smiles happily, looking at the sky. “I hope a real one doesn’t start.”

“That could happen,” I look at the clouds creeping up to the sun. It’s still warm, but no longer hot. In the summer, the open sun would force us to seek shade—the darker, the better. “So, do you want to go to the city, to the people, or should we walk in the forest?”

“What people?” he’s surprised by the option. “Did we specially buy an apartment on the border of the forest just to go for walks in the city?” he leads the way through the trees on the green, leaf-strewn grass. He smiles, then becomes serious for a moment, and his mood improves again. Red leaves aren’t the only hindrance to me on this walk. If only I knew what this nonsense with the paint was about. And I don’t want to pry. If he’s not telling me, there’s a good reason for it. Maybe more than one.

“Are we going to look for raccoons?” I joke, catching up to my husband.

“Excellent idea!” Luter picks up on it. “We’ll find them and invite them over.”

“What will we feed them?” I ask seriously, since we don’t even have food for ourselves.

“We’ll look in the trash can,” Luter jokes back.

“We don’t even have a trash can. I don’t think forest raccoons will eat garbage like the city ones. We should learn a thing or two about being prepared from them.”

“Are you suggesting we look for food here?” he peers between the leaves, looking for mushrooms.

“I suggest we resolve this issue before sunset so we don’t have to walk to the city for groceries in the dark,” I don’t want to spoil our nature walk with mundane questions, but we need to eat something.

“We aren’t going to the city. There’s a small village beyond the forest. We’ll buy groceries there. We just need to go a bit to the left,” he changes course.

“Through the whole forest?” I can’t hide my displeasure at the upcoming walk, which will leave my legs aching.

“It’s the edge; it’s not far,” Luter leads on without stopping.

“Do you think they give away food for free in the village?” I hint that I didn’t bring any money with me.

“I'm sure our money is no worse than city money,” he shows a few banknotes from his pocket.

“I didn’t notice when you took them. Do you always carry money in your work clothes?” I try to recall the moment the money ended up in Luter’s pocket.

“These pockets attract money,” he jokes, patting his pockets. “See how much gold is scattered around,” he points to the golden leaves all around.

“I see it, but no one will give us food for these treasures, though they might share for paper with drawings on it. So, I choose real money,” I take the money from Luter.

“Why so realistic in a fairy tale?” he looks at me with reproach. “We should’ve not taken your real money and come to the village with yellow leaves. I’d bet someone would’ve shared food even for that kind of payment.”

“Then let’s bet,” I choose a few beautiful golden leaves and hand them to Luter. “Buy us dinner with these, and for breakfast, fine, I’ll buy something with this ugly money that has no place in a fairy tale.”

“Fine, I’ll buy it,” my husband agrees eagerly. “What are we betting on that I’ll succeed?”

“If you buy food, you eat. If you don’t buy food, you don’t eat,” the terms are joking, but I’m curious how this will end.

“It’s a deal!” a firm handshake seals the agreement more tightly than a signature in blood. “Let’s pick up the pace, it’s not far now,” a few first houses with smoking chimneys are visible through the trees.

“Will they mistake us for beggars?” I feel a little uncomfortable about our appearance.

“We’ll have a better chance of buying things with golden banknotes that way,” he caresses the leaves like gold ingots.

“Then let’s go. You’ll do the talking. You can tell everyone I’m mute. I don’t want them to start asking me why we look like paupers and pitying me,” I grumble, walking behind Luter.

“No one will say anything, you’ll see,” my husband assures me, having absolute faith in the remaining humanity of the villagers.

“We’ll see,” I utter my last word before going mute.

“Landowners!” Luter calls out good-naturedly over the fence made of large stones. A wall like this won’t stop thieves, but it looks like a fortress—majestic. The family crest is painted on the metal gate. It’s unknown how authentic it is, but it looks decent and respectable. On the shield, the snake coils around the lion’s mane, holding her head near the ear of the king of beasts. The lion stares intently and aggressively at everyone who looks his way. The thought that the snake might whisper that we are enemies makes my skin crawl; if that happens, we’ll have to run back through the forest. And even that won’t save us. The lion’s muscles are like an athlete’s.

“We don’t need mushrooms!” the homeowner replies from behind a slightly ajar door. “We gathered plenty ourselves this morning.”

“We didn’t bring mushrooms,” Luter catches onto the thin thread of connection.

“Not mushrooms?” the man peers out the door with interest. “Then what valuable thing did you find that’s worth distracting me at this hour? I was having such a dream,” he recalls the pleasant memory wistfully.

“Gold!” my husband declares proudly and seriously.

“Gold?” the owner asks again, his voice greedy.

“Three ingots!” Luter proudly lifts the yellow leaves above his head so the man can see them.

“Gold,” the man whispers in a captivated voice. “Will you share?” his hands reach toward the leaves like the snake on the crest.

“We’ll trade!” Luter replies excitedly, tucking the leaves into his pocket.

“Trade?” the fortress owner repeats thoughtfully. “What will we be trading for?” His eyes gleam with golden avarice.

“We need food. Share what you have with us, and we’ll share what we have with you,” my husband states the terms.

“Come inside,” he hurriedly invites us to enter before anyone sees us. “And don’t wave gold around so carelessly. People here are so greedy they could tear off your arm along with the gold. Come in quickly,” he lets us into the house and closes the door. “I don’t have much food to offer,” he places a stick of sausage and a pyramid of cheese on the table next to the bread, pulls a box of tomatoes from under the bed, gives us a few, and four apples roll onto the table nearby. “And a personal gift from me,” he puts a bottle of wine on the table. “Now, the payment,” he extends his hand toward Luter.

“As we agreed,” my husband places one gold leaf in the homeowner’s wrinkled palm.

“And that’s all?” the wrinkled man looks at the payment as if it were pitiful pennies.

“All right, then! It’s a good trade! A worthy one!” Luter hands over the remaining two leaves.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” the man hides the leaves under a pillow. “Gold is worth a lot these days. When you get hungry, feel free to drop by again for another trade. Just don’t say a word to anyone!” he warns seriously. “Or they’ll set up a marketplace here.”

“As you say,” Luter smiles. “It’s time for us to go,” he leads me out of the house.

“Of course! Come by often,” he smiles as he sees us through the gate with the crest. He closes the gate and hurries back into the house, locking the door behind him.

“Don’t you think the lion looked angrier at us after our visit?” the lion’s gaze on the crest definitely changed.

“You imagined it,” Luter replies contentedly.

“I couldn’t have imagined something like that. Before, he was looking at us calmly, with interest, but now he’s glaring as if we’re enemies. And the snake used to just whisper in his ear, but now she’s looking at us too,” I peer closer, starting to doubt that I saw the crest correctly the first time.

“A sure sign that it’s time for us to head home,” Luter urges, leading me through the forest away from the village.

“Wait,” I stop the excited man. “How did you do that?”

“It’s all magic,” he answers with a mischievous smile.

“Or a trick?” I subtly suggest that I demand an explanation for his dishonest action.

“You saw everything yourself. We exchanged the three leaves you gave me for this,” he indicates the food the homeowner gathered.

“You’re telling me what happened. But you’re not telling me why that man sincerely believed he was being given gold,” I don’t want to hopelessly miss the moment when I can find out everything. If I close my eyes now, I’ll never know what really happened later. I don’t want to cause a scene. I decided not to press him about the paint, although I’m extremely curious about what it means. And now this trick with the gold leaves.

“Fine, I admit it,” Luter stops in the middle of the path, which is covered in “gold.” “That was dishonest of me. In my defense, I’ll say that initially, I wanted to buy everything honestly, but you took all my money away.”

“So, I’m to blame for everything and forced you to pull a dishonest trick? Is that what you’re saying?” My husband’s certainty of his own righteousness starts to infuriate me.

“Note that I had money, and now you have it,” he insists that I am at fault.

“You could have taken my real money to pay!” I hand back what I took from him on the way to the village.

“But we made a bet,” he reminds eagerly. “And I won!” he announces his victory contentedly to the entire forest.

“At what cost? By deceiving an old man?” I don’t so much want to awaken his conscience as I want to at least extract a promise from him not to do it again.

“I wanted to win, and I won. That’s all I can tell you,” the smile vanishes from his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m the one to blame for everything,” I catch up with my husband and take his free hand. “Understand, I need to know what that was.”

“Let’s talk at home,” he looks through the thinning tree crowns at the reddening gray sky.

“All right, I’ll wait,” I don’t want to spend the rest of our walk in a bad mood. “You did that cleverly, though,” I voice the long-awaited praise.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Luter’s contented smile returns.

“We got back faster than we walked to the village,” I notice how quickly time has passed. “It hasn’t even gotten dark yet.”

“After tricks like that, it’s better to hurry. So we did,” the trickster explains with a smile. “Careful,” he sidesteps the broken boards piled up after their flight from the balcony without looking.

“What is that?” I jump away from the pile of splinters.

“What’s there?” We both have to look at what we didn’t want to and weren’t planning to.

“They were moving,” I point a finger at the heap.

“Are you sure?” Luter peers at it. “I can’t see anything in the twilight,” he leads me into the house with a serious expression.

“Look! There!” boards on the top shower down.

“Well, look who’s here—our neighbors,” Luter says with a relieved smile. “They’re gathering boards for their new home.”

“Or they’ll settle here,” I say what I wish for. We need neighbors. And raccoons are much nicer than people.

“We should feed them so they visit more often,” Luter breaks off a piece of cheese and sausage and gives it to the wary animal. Small paws take the food. Then all we see are the paws of the scavenger running into the forest. “See? Even something scary can turn into a pleasant encounter,” he tries to cheer me up after the scare.

“Or the opposite,” I whisper as I enter the house.

“Or the opposite,” Luter repeats even more quietly, following me inside.

“Why didn’t they leave the lights on here?” I ask, placing the food out between the three candles.

“For whom?” Luter asks with a smile. “Everyone’s long gone.”

“But we aren’t from here; we came here,” I say, not even sure why I’m arguing. “By the way, why did we come here?” I’m somehow certain this is the best moment I’ll get to ask.

“You know, housing in the city is expensive. We can’t even afford to rent a small room. And these apartments are free—they’re giving them away just so this edge of the city isn’t completely empty. And it’s nice for us here without people, isn’t it?” he knows the answer he wants to hear. I can’t let this subject drop.

“I think our new home, the red paint, and the trick in the village didn’t happen on the same day by accident,” I transition smoothly to uncovering all the secrets.

“Here come the inevitable questions,” Luter sighs heavily, setting down a piece of bread and sausage.

“These aren’t just questions. I need to know what’s going on so I don’t fear every little sound from not knowing what’s behind it,” I soften my tone. I don’t want a fireside chat by candlelight to turn into a domestic row.

“I can calm you a little. You personally have nothing to fear,” he takes my hand.

“I personally?” I repeat with slight bewilderment. “This hasn’t been about me personally for a long time. We’re together; we share everything equally. And I need to know everything we’re going to be sharing. I don’t want our new life in a new home to start like this. Those awful, bloody smears on the doors.”

“So you realized it’s blood,” Luter whispers.

“Even a child can tell the difference between paint and blood. And your expression is far more eloquent than any words you could’ve used to explain things to me right away,” I keep trying not to raise my voice so I don’t upset my husband even more. “Tell me honestly, what’s happening? I don’t want a fight, but I need to know the truth.”

“Did you see the crest on the gates in the village?” Luter begins, taking the long way around.

“It was hard to miss such a large crest, painted in fresh colors on faded gates.”

“It’s not there,” he says, pausing in thought. “We see it. But in reality, the crest isn’t there.”

“Why do we see it then?” I try not to jump to conclusions.

“I see it. You’ve become a part of my life. Now you see what I see. It’s the same situation with the paint on the doors. They appear everywhere I am. And now, everywhere you are, too.”

“Why are these paints pursuing us?” I want to get straight to the point without any beating around the bush.

“It’s my family’s crest. Ours now. Ever since we became husband and wife. I didn’t show it to you before because I didn’t want to scare you. It’s passed down from generation to generation. I’m the last of our line. We will keep seeing it until an heir appears.”

“Why does it appear to us? And it changes, too. The lion’s stare scared me a little. And does that mean I’m the snake?” that sounds like an insult.

“The snake part is kind of funny,” Luter unexpectedly smiles. “The crest hasn’t changed in hundreds of years. The image doesn’t relate to you personally, but now you are depicted on it. And it appears to warn us about something, to prompt us, or to keep us safe from something. Today, it was scolding us when we were leaving.”

“We’ve sorted that out a bit. And what about the red paint? We’ll just call it that. I don’t want to say blood out loud,” I say the word, and my face instinctively wrinkles in disgust.

“It’s a sign. I don’t know who it’s from or what it means. I’m seeing it for the first time,” Luter says, looking puzzled.

“Are you involved in something?” I ask cautiously, trying not to stir up anxiety in my husband. “Is it somehow connected to the trick in the village?”

“I hadn’t considered a link. I’ve done that trick countless times, and nothing like this has ever preceded it,” he stares intently into my eyes, hiding something. “Sometimes I create an illusion of gold objects to trade them for food, like now. That trick only works on greedy people.”

“Is the wedding ring the same kind of trick?” I test the gold with my teeth.

“What? No!” Luter protests with a smile. “How could I ever deceive my wife? How could you even think that?”

“Sorry,” I apologize quietly, gazing into the sincerity of his eyes, which sparkle in the candlelight on the table.

“The trick with you was different,” Luter laughs.

“So you did use a trick,” Now I absolutely need to know what the deal is.

“Could I have managed without one? How could a girl like you ever notice a simple guy wandering around the city?” Luter grows sadder, recalling the years before the newlyweds met. “There was no chance of further conversation at all. Remember when your bicycle tire burst?”

“So you punctured it?” I feel like I’ve caught a criminal.

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” Luter admits with a smile. “You went to the cobbler’s workshop because there was no one else who could help you then.”

“Are you acquainted with this cobbler?” I guess the obvious possibility.

“No, I’ve never spoken to him,” he smiles mysteriously, keeping the secret further from me. “He patched the inner tube, and you rode on.”

“Did you push that old woman into my path?” I remember, indignant.

“No, my conscience wouldn’t allow it,” Luter says seriously.

“Did you steal my wallet with all my money, and then put it back in the bag on my bike?”

“That was your inattentiveness; I had nothing to do with it.”

“Then what was your trick?” I can’t recall anything unusual.

“Do you think it was easy to run after you across the whole city?” Luter says with a smile. “Without magical powers, I wouldn’t have run even half the distance. It’s a good thing all sorts of things kept happening to you, and I had time to rest,” Luter laughs.

“So that’s your magic—special powers of endurance?”

“The magic is that I saw you and realized I was ready to run after you across the entire world.”

“Then why didn’t you catch up right away, and only spoke to me the next day?”

“I doubted myself. Don’t forget, I looked even worse back then than I do now,” he gestures to his torn work clothes, which smell of the forest’s autumn dampness.

“And the next day you looked well-dressed?” I laugh, recalling the threadbare vest over the unwashed white t-shirt. “Those pants,” I can’t stop laughing. “What color were they?”

“Purple. Velvet, by the way,” he reminds with a dignified look.

“Where did you even get them?” I can’t settle down.

“A friend was working at the theater then. Maybe he still is. I helped write plays, and he’d slip me some money and clothes for special occasions.”

“And did you have many special occasions?” a hint of jealousy flashes in my voice.

“You are my most special and only occasion,” he says with absolute seriousness, as if his life depends on those words.

“Is that why you couldn’t string two words together when we met?” I make my smile softer so as not to hurt my husband’s feelings.

“I don’t know what happened to me then,” Luter explains. “On the way, I prepared, rehearsed every word, as if I were reciting lines from a play, but when I got to your house, I forgot everything. I couldn’t even remember my own name to introduce myself.”

“Yes, the word you spoke then could hardly be called a name,” I still can’t suppress my laughter.

“But you spoke so confidently, it was hard to guess that our meeting was special for you,” Luter says sadly.

“I’d had to send so many guys away before you. Beneath the slight arrogance, I was hiding the joy that you had dared to come to me,” I admit that the meeting made me happy, so he doesn’t think the moment was only special for him.

“So you saw me earlier?” He’s genuinely surprised by the turn the truth has taken.

“Wouldn’t you notice a guy running after you, stopping to catch his breath?” I can’t help laughing again. “You should have seen yourself. All red-faced, your clothes flapping in tatters in the wind, your hair a mess.”

“How did you notice me looking like that, and remember me?” Luter is surprised, picturing himself from the outside.

“That kind of persistence brings more than just laughter. I admired you then. Not everyone would dare to run such a marathon just to look at a girl from a distance. And you weren’t completely dirty. Your face was clean, and your gaze was clear. Your eyes were a little cunning and mysterious. The fatigue changed them to pure kindness and the desire to meet. I was flattered to be your cherished goal. I haven’t told anyone this. I’m admitting it to myself for the first time, so don’t take advantage of my openness.”

“I should have told you all this sooner so I wouldn’t feel unworthy of you,” Luter laments, recalling the unpleasant feeling that has lasted until now and left a sense of unworthiness.

“Forgive me, darling,” I hug and kiss Luter.

“Careful!” he catches a flash of flame running quickly along a strand of my hair that fell into the candle.

“Promise me you’ll never hide anything from me again. If the crest appears to both of us, then we’ll face the signs together,” I seriously ask my husband.

“All right,” he agrees immediately after my sincere confession.

“And try to lay off the tricks, okay? You saw how the crest reacted,” I recall the lion’s displeased expression and the snake’s reproach.

“The crest knows and understands everything better than we do,” Luter concedes.

“Are there really no more secrets?” I want to know everything so I can sleep peacefully at night without fearing an attack from the unknown.

“There’s one thing I’m still a little unsure about. As soon as the thought solidifies, I’ll tell you right away,” Luter says solemnly.

“Fine,” I agree to my husband’s condition.

“I am certain of one thing, though,” he looks seriously into my eyes in the light of the table candles. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“And you are my light,” I kiss my husband for the pleasant words that reach my heart. “Should we leave one candle lit?” I suggest, clearing the table.

“Are you still scared?” Luter asks, worried.

“How can I not be scared here when even you don’t know everything?” I say, regretting the surge of honesty. But we agreed to tell each other the truth, no matter what it was.

“Are you scared even with me?” my husband’s heart feels self-doubt again, and my own uncertainty about him.

“Without you, I would have run away long ago or died of fear. With you, I still have the strength to hold on and not succumb to the encroaching fear. And let the candle burn, it’s warmer to fall asleep with,” I blow out two candles, leaving one in the middle of the table.

“Is my warmth not enough for you?” Luter grows increasingly insecure with every word I say.

“Stop picking at my words,” I lie down in bed with him, snuggling close. “You know what I mean. The darkness in the room itself feels cold, and the warm light soothes the eye and offers peace and hope that everything will be better tomorrow.”

“Tell me if you want to leave here. I won’t even argue,” Luter sits up.

“Lie back down; don’t stir up the cold air and don’t talk nonsense. I don’t know who you take me for. Think about it yourself. Would I have married you if I were afraid of difficulties?” I seriously remind him of the riskiest step of my life.

“True,” he takes my words as a joke for the first time, not a reproach. I hear him smiling.

“And now we need to fall asleep so morning comes sooner and the sun warms our house,” I close my eyes and see a sunny morning.

“Sweet dreams,” he hugs and kisses me.

“May we have a peaceful night,” I say on the way to sleep. We’re going to need it. We fall asleep immediately.

“What are you saying?” I wake up in the middle of the night, having heard some words from Luter. I turn, and he isn’t next to me. The blanket covers only me. “Luter!” I call out into the darkness. The candle went out long ago. “Where are you?” I get out of bed. I really don’t want to, but I have to. The only good thing about a cold night is not having to get dressed, because you always sleep in your clothes. I reach for the table, find the candle and the matches. The air is damp and cold; the sulfur on the matches is wet. The first few attempts to strike a fire result in single flashes on the box. One finally lights. I look at the flame, carefully holding it to the candle wick so it doesn’t go out. The chances of lighting another match are next to zero. The candle lights, I take it in my hands, and lift it. “Oh, God!” I drop the candle in terror. If I wasn’t hallucinating after sleep, and I'm not dreaming right now, Luter stands silently right in front of me; the candle falls onto his arm. Behind him hangs a motionless body in a noose, wearing the same clothes. I couldn’t make out the face in the brief flame. I stand, unable to move, in shock at what I see. I'm afraid to try lighting the candle, not knowing what I really saw. With all my heart, I hope it’s a dream or that I imagined it. In my doubt, I don’t move a step. Should I light the candle or go back to bed? I don’t know which is more terrifying: learning of my beloved’s death, seeing him in a strange, motionless state, or calmly lying down in bed, leaving him alone in trouble. I close my eyes and relax. My body goes to the bed on its own. I lie down and cover myself with the blanket.

“Why are you wandering around the apartment?” Luter hugs me from behind. I don’t know how to react. My whole body tenses in horror. My eyes sting from restrained hysteria. I don’t know what to believe. Is it really him in the bed now? If it is, then whom did I just see in the apartment?

“It’s alright, dear, let’s sleep.” I can’t close my eyes even for a moment. All the time, I see Luter standing in front of me and him, hanging in the noose. The candle flame adds horror to these images. I don’t know what to believe—what I saw or Luter’s voice next to me. I'm afraid even to turn around. Heavy thoughts tire me out more than a long walk. I fall asleep without realizing it.

“Sleeping sweetly, my dear,” Luter greets me in the morning with a smile and a cup of hot tea.

“Good morning,” I say uncertainly, taking the cup. I look, though I shouldn’t. “What is that on your arm?” I ask, pointing to a burn mark.

“Burnt myself while starting a fire with the door boards to brew us some tea,” he says, sitting down on the bed beside me with his own cup.

“Starting a fire with what, did you say?” It might have been my imagination.

“With the boards from our doors downstairs. I tossed them off the balcony yesterday, remember?” he reminds, taking a sip of tea.

“I remember,” I reply calmly. “But then, what are these?” I gesture with my eyes toward new, unpainted doors in place of the old ones.

“I don’t know, they just appeared this morning,” he answers completely calmly.

“Did you put them up?” I hope it’s some kind of joke to scare me.

“No, not me,” he replies with a smile.

“Seriously, tell me where they came from,” I ask, realizing that fear is creeping into my soul again.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Luter says seriously. “It’s creepy for me, too, seeing them there.”

“And you burned the old ones completely?” I get out of bed, setting the cup aside.

“To the last splinter,” my husband declares proudly. “But I also made breakfast.”

“With what?” I ask, walking over to the balcony. I look down.

“Our neighbors the raccoons brought something,” he says, showing me a roasted bird in a frying pan, something that looks like a wild pigeon.

“Are you serious?” I look at the empty space under the balcony. No splinters, no ash.

“No, of course not,” Luter laughs. “Raccoons are predators, but they don’t kill birds. I caught this early this morning with breadcrumbs.”

“My provider,” I walk up to Luter and kiss him on the cheek. “Tell me, where did you make the fire?”

“On the other side of the house, so the smoke wouldn’t drift into the windows. Or should I have filled the apartment with smoke?” he smirks, looking clever and thoughtful, expecting praise.

“It’s good you thought of everything,” I praise him without much joy. “Show me where the fire was.”

“Dress warmly. The morning isn’t as sunny as we’d hoped,” he throws on his jacket and helps me put on mine. We go down into the yard and walk around the house. “Here,” he says, pointing to a spot with no sign of fire. No boards, no flames, no ash.

“Is this a joke?” I look at Luter seriously. “Or a disappearing ash trick?”

“Please, believe me,” my husband says with complete seriousness. “This morning, I caught a wild pigeon with breadcrumbs. I moved the boards to this side and made a fire.”

“You started it right away? With no problem?” I interrupt immediately to clarify.

“No, the matches were damp from the night. I need to hide them in a dry place. If I had something to write on, I’d make a note to myself. I plucked the pigeon, fried it, boiled water, brewed tea, and brought you breakfast. The ash was still there when I left the fire. When I came back to the apartment, all the doors were in their places. As far as I’m concerned, that’s even better. We’ll always have firewood. Please, believe me, it all happened exactly that way,” he looks at me with an absolutely sincere gaze.

“I believe you,” I want to believe. “But you understand yourself that none of this is normal.”

“I understand. And I also understand that we don’t have to expect anything normal in life,” he says, staring with a heavy gaze into the woods.

“Where do those thoughts come from?” Overnight, Luter had apparently reached his final conclusion.

“Remember the paint on the door?” he reminds in a low voice of the first unpleasantness.

“That’s hard to forget even if you wanted to,” I recall the bloody streaks on the doors. “You said it was a warning about something.”

“I did. Back then I still had doubts, but now I know for sure,” he turns to me with a doomed expression.

“What does it mean?” I still don’t know if I want to know. It’s hard to let go of dreams of a quiet, secluded life with the man I love.

“You saw it yourself,” he takes my hands. I feel how much colder his hands are than mine.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, understanding what he means.

“You’re not the only one who saw me in the noose,” now I’m afraid even to hold his hands. But he’s my husband.

“We just imagined it,” I try to calm us both.

“We both couldn’t have imagined it,” he smiles sadly, squeezing my hands.

“What was it, then? A possible future?” I propose an option that may not be too late to avoid.

“I don’t think so,” Luter’s hands turn blue. A rope mark appears on his pale neck.

“What’s happening?” the hysteria I suppressed last night finds a way out. “Luter, what’s wrong with you?” I can’t believe what I see. I don’t want to let go of his hands. It feels as if once I let go, I’ll never be able to touch him again.

“That’s what the coat of arms was warning about. Now it belongs to you,” Luter’s hands slip from mine. My husband walks away from me, dissolving into the depths of the forest as he goes.

“Stop! Don’t go! Luter! Don’t leave me here alone!” I scream hysterically. Everything inside and out aches unbearably. I want to run after him. I can’t move from the spot, just like last night. Luter vanishes among the golden leaves.

“Luter,” I whisper, gazing into the calm forest.

Our raccoon neighbors are looking at me from behind the trees. At another moment, I would be happy to see them, but now not a drop of good feeling is left in me. I don’t know how I can live here now, or how to live at all. My hands clench into fists. Clenching my teeth, I walk into the house. The raccoons follow me. I certainly won’t shoo them away. Living creatures won’t be superfluous in such a gruesome place.

I step into the apartment. I can’t say I'm entirely surprised. I already saw it tonight. Luter didn’t leave completely. My husband’s body is hanging motionless in the noose. I close my eyes in silent horror. The raccoons stop beside me. Their presence alone shows more sympathy than I have seen my entire life among people.

“You don’t have to help,” I say with a smile. I pick up the stool that holds Luter’s last steps. I set it nearby. I spread a sheet on the floor. I take the knife from the table. I climb up, feeling neither my body nor any emotion. I cut the rope. The body falls softly and heavily onto the sheet.

“I’m sorry, darling, it probably hurts. I can’t do it any other way,” I climb down to him. I remove the noose from his neck. I wrap him in the sheet, tying it with the rope.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I drag the heavy dead body down the stairs. The neighbors from the forest follow. They want to help, but they don’t have the strength.

“It’s okay, I’ve got this,” I reassure my helpers. I don’t want to watch the body struggle as it descends the stairs. We walk out into the yard. My palms are burning from the rope.

“Can you tell me where I can get a shovel?” I ask the neighbors. The larger one goes toward the old shed, expecting me to follow him. He led me correctly.

“Thank you,” I take the shovel.

“Let’s go to the forest, take a walk,” I drag the magician’s body in its shroud across the golden leaves. I dig a grave in the damp soil with its stones and roots. I don’t know what’s harder, dragging the dead body of the person I love or digging a grave for him. I drop the body down. It seems like this is just another one of Luter’s tricks.

“I hope you come back again,” I slowly bury the grave.

“How could this happen?” I ask out loud, hoping someone will answer. I count the hot tears without blinking.

“Just a little more, my dear. Now we’ll cover you with earth, and you won’t freeze. I'm sorry that our house isn’t visible from here. It would be too hard for me to see you every day,” I throw the last handfuls of earth. I gather the leaves, sprinkling the grave with gold. Instead of a headstone, I roll a moss-covered boulder onto the hill.

“Don’t worry, I’ll visit you. I’d stay now, but I’d better go. I need time to come to terms with the idea,” I take the shovel, trekking back through the forest. I can’t understand why there is such a numb void inside and a feeling that this happened a long time ago and I just had to wait for it. I return the tool to its place. Maybe someone will need it to bury me.

“Come with me if you want,” I invite my forest neighbors to share the empty, lifeless dwelling with me. We climb up together. I leave the door ajar, in case the raccoons want to leave. I give them the roasted pigeon. I take a sip of the cold tea and lie down on the bed. I wrap myself up in the blanket over my head. I scream with all my might.

“I hope I didn’t scare anyone?” I peek out from under the blanket. Everyone is in place. I try not to think about Luter. It’s the same as falling into the ocean and not thinking about water. I remember how we met.

“I never got to say that I noticed him before he saw me. I first spotted him at the theater for which Luter helped write plays. It was amazing how he fit such long life stories, full of pain, worries, passion, happiness, and despair, into a short performance. Talent attracts immediately. And it doesn’t matter what a person looks like. But you don’t want to look at a neglected person either, even if they’re insanely talented. If you don’t find the golden mean, then even if you stay at the edge of cleanliness in appearance and mind, it won’t help. Am I right?” I ask the new residents of my and Luter’s apartment.

“How long are you going to talk to animals?” a male voice sounds from the table.

“Luter, is that you?” I ask, looking at the extinguished candle.

“Almost,” the unfamiliar voice answers.

“Then who is it?” I get out of bed and walk up to the table.

“Prick your finger,” the unknown person urgently advises.

“Isn’t the pain I’m experiencing enough for you? Do you want to see my blood too?” I answer, exhausted after losing my beloved. Now I have nothing to lose except life, and that’s not a value. Luter’s golden leaves are more precious.

“Don’t be dramatic,” a female voice stops my self-pity. “Cut your finger. Drip blood onto the paper.”

“As you say,” I angrily cut my finger with the knife I used to cut the rope that took Luter from me. The sharp blade goes deeper than I expected. The blood doesn’t drip, it pours in a thin stream onto the paper, which is spread on the table instead of a tablecloth. The red paint spreads along the embossed tracks, filling in the drawing. The family crest appears. “Did I cut my finger for you?” I exclaim in indignation before the lion and the snake on the crest. “Couldn’t you have poured wine instead?”

“We wouldn’t have manifested in your life then. Only blood can bind us to a person. You are now the last bearer of the name. The crest is all that remains of the noble Ronec family. We served the family for hundreds of years. With your blood, you have finally bound yourself to us,” the lion explains. “From now on, we serve you.”

“Why didn’t you save Luter if you served and protected him?” I throw the accusations.

“We warned him,” the snake replies without a hint of regret. “The rest was up to Luter himself. We do not take direct action against the personal will of the family bearer.”

“Personal will?” I ask again, unable to believe the truth of the words. “Luter couldn’t have wanted to die.”

“And that is your personal opinion, which we are not entitled to refute,” the snake evades.

“What if my opinion refutes the truth?” I don’t know why I’m even starting a conversation with the crest drawn in blood. If someone saw me from the side, they’d think this was the first step on the path to irreversible madness.

“Truth is irrefutable,” the snake says harshly, leaving no way out of the argument. Checkmate.

“I don’t have time for arguments with you right now. Tell me, why did Luter commit suicide? I never noticed even a shadow of a thought of it in him,” I try to recall the slightest hint. I don’t remember anything like that.

“The desire was real, which is why we couldn’t stop it,” the lion on the crest replies thoughtfully. “It seems the house, the forest, or your trip to the village influenced him. Did you notice anything strange?”

“Strange?” I ask again, smiling painfully. “Everything here is strange! Luter hanged himself last night. I personally buried my husband and am left alone in an abandoned house near the forest. Now I live with two raccoons. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s enough to start figuring things out. For starters, let’s not get nervous,” the lion says with understanding. “Was there anything difficult about the person you took food from?”

“Besides the blind greed that made him take the leaves at the mention of gold, there was nothing unusual. The food was fine, even delicious. Everything was fine when we ate dinner. Something happened at night. And for some reason, only to Luter, not to both of us. The mystery was left in the night,” I recall the sight of my husband when I lit the candle. The burn on his arm. His body was already hanging in the noose. “Strange, Luter simultaneously turned out to be dead in the noose, alive in front of me, and seconds later was hugging me in bed.”

“Are you sure it was Luter lying with you in bed?” the snake asks, highlighting my biggest mistake. I got into bed without knowing who I was with.

“His voice was his,” I recall the words behind me. “And I know his hugs for sure.”

“Was everything familiar?” the snake clarifies.

“Everything was as usual, except for the warmth,” with memories of the last night, a deep sorrow returns, releasing tears.

“What was wrong with his warmth?” the lion doesn’t let go of the memories.

“Before, when Luter hugged me, there was always a heat between us, capable of warming not only us, but it seemed like the whole world. But that night, I only felt my own warmth. We were alone in bed. He was hugging me, but my feelings told me that I was alone. And I was afraid to look not because I might see something horrible, but because I didn’t want to see my husband’s absence,” my hands instinctively reach out to hug myself, instead of Luter’s arms. I feel sad and tearful. I fall silent, realizing that the conversation with the crest is an illusion. I return to bed.

“Don’t withdraw into yourself,” the snake advises persistently, noticing the change in my behavior. “There could have been many illusions. Starting with the red brushstrokes on the doors. Everything is real. But Luter’s golden leaves are a pure illusion. You must grasp the difference.”

“Fine,” I can’t stop the conversation, in which lies the last chance to find out even a drop of truth. “If you left the marks on the doors. Then who put the doors back after Luter threw them off the balcony and burned them? Who brought hot tea and a well-roasted pigeon? There is no electricity, no gas either. No planks or ashes were left, and the doors are in place without your warnings.”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” the lion concludes my speech seriously. “Try to remember, at what point was Luter still alive?”

“For me, he’s alive even now,” I remember the warmth of his hands before bed and his smile in the warm candlelight. “He was still alive before bed. And in a good mood,” I pull myself together, which is what the crest advisors expect of me. “At night in the noose, he was definitely a dead man.”

“Are you sure it was him in the noose?” the snake thinks seriously.

“I doubt it. In the morning, Luter was hanging exactly the same way in the same clothes. I returned to bed and only heard Luter; there was no warmth. The burn remained on his arm, so it turns out Luter was alive when I lit the candle,” I want to distance myself from the bright, unpleasant moment.

“Luter said he burned himself on the bonfire while making breakfast,” the lion reminds me. “We didn’t see a bonfire, so I believe your words.”

“Why didn’t you see it?” I am surprised, looking at both images. “Aren’t you omnipresent?”

“Don’t confuse us with all sorts of magical things. The family crest only appears for a warning,” the lion staunchly defends itself.

“Then you should have followed him at arm’s length because everything here turned out to be one continuous danger,” a fleeting outburst of anger escapes my lips. The lion and the snake understand this, leaving it unattended. I try to restrain my emotions even more. It’s difficult. “I can’t understand the moment Luter hanged himself. Everything was fine before we left the house. Downstairs, we spoke like normal people, then he disappeared. I returned home and found Luter hanging exactly as he was at night.”

“So, it happened the moment you left the apartment,” the snake concludes.

“Then it turns out I didn’t see the real Luter. He must have secretly stayed in the apartment to carry out his plan,” it’s difficult to think rationally when no circumstance seems realistically possible. “Suppose Luter stayed alive in the house, and I went out with a ghost. Then how did the ghost appear immediately if Luter was still alive?”

“It turns out he wasn’t,” the snake makes a logical conclusion.

“Then why wasn’t Luter in the noose when I left the apartment?” I ask a direct question, attacking the crest’s logic.

“Only one option comes to mind,” the lion says uncertainly. “The real Luter, hanging in the noose, was hidden from you by an illusion of normalcy. You didn’t notice anything unusual, calmly left, and when you returned, the illusion was removed. That’s how you saw the truth.”

“Why would someone go to all this trouble just to make me suffer?” I can’t understand who and why this might be necessary.

“Tell me, do you know everything about Luter?” the snake asks mysteriously.

“Not everything,” I admit honestly. “We’ve only been married for a few months. Before that, we knew each other for a few months more. Can you really get to know a person in six months?”

“And you married a man you didn’t know?” the lion voices my shaky position as a sensible girl.

“I married Luter. The way I saw him, and always will see him,” I answer harshly and confidently, implying that no one will be able to change my mind with a single word. “I didn’t forever renounce my family for the sake of regretting the only act guided by my heart now,” I wrap myself in the blanket, turning away from the crest. My gaze falls on the place where my husband lay just yesterday, who suddenly left under such unusual circumstances.

“We are not trying to turn you against him,” the snake gently reassures me. “The honor of the family is our paramount value, which we are called to guard through the ages. Help us figure things out to clear the defiling shadow of suicide that has fallen upon the family due to Luter’s case. Did anything happen to him before you arrived here?”

“Nothing serious. He acted a little strangely on the road,” I recall the barely noticeable changes in Luter’s behavior. “He was worried, his smile changed, it became more anxious. His gaze kept drifting away from me more often, although before he always looked into my eyes or at my hands. He was quieter. He used to tell me things.”

“That happens when people spend some time together,” the lion says cautiously. “The first wave of admiration and passion passes, interest fades, stories end. It starts to seem like the person has changed, although he remains the same as he was before meeting you. And that peak of wonderfulness between you gradually descends to the level line of ordinary life.”

“This is different,” I stop the lion’s doubts. “There was never any coldness between us, and it didn’t appear with these changes. Luter was worried about something external. As if he was expecting an attack from outside.”

“Tell me, did Luter ever perform that trick in the village with anyone before?” the snake still can’t forget that incident, which caused them to appear before me for the first time.

“I don’t remember that,” I was sincerely surprised when Luter did it in front of me for the first time.

“And was there anything symbolic along the way, after which there were sharp changes? Maybe you passed a cemetery, a church, a crossroads, a bridge?” the snake is extracting more and more memories from me that I never paid attention to.

“We passed the roadside church calmly, nothing changed. There was one big crossroads,” I recall a strange hill at the intersection. “Yes, it seems that after that place, Luter began to change.”

“Did he see something or someone there?” the snake latches onto everything she hears.

“Someone piled stones into a symbol on a small hill. I don’t even remember approximately what it was. There was no one there. And Luter was staring intently at the center of the crossroads, as if he saw someone. He was silent, didn’t move. He just stared. Then he looked back several times after we drove past,” it’s strange how I didn’t pay attention to this.

“A magical place. That’s where it all started,” the snake says seriously, looking at the lion.

“Or ended,” the sorrowful lion allows a different course of events.

“Do you know what happened then?” They remind me of Luter’s habit of leaving secrets for tomorrow to create even greater mysteries later.

“We will consult and tell you,” the lion replies, disappearing along with the crest.

“And you try not to break down and don’t follow your husband into the noose,” the snake commands and advises. The crest soaks into the paper, dissolving until invisible.

“That’s exactly what I'm talking about,” I turn my attention to my new neighbors again. “They extracted from me things I didn’t even remember, made some conclusions, told me nothing, and just disappeared,” I am overwhelmed with anger. At Luter, at his Crest, and at whoever did all this. If the raccoons weren’t so sorry for me, they would leave too.

“Thank you for not abandoning me,” I get out of bed, take a few old warm clothes from the closet that I won’t wear, but it’s a shame to throw away because I’ve worn them for a long time and got used to them. I spread them in a drawer near the bed. The male sniffs the offered bed, looks at his mate, and they both leave.

“Well, that’s your right. You abandoned me too. Not surprising. Who would want to stay in the same house with a crazy woman?” I bury my face in the pillow and cover myself with the blanket. I don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to live. I don’t want anything. Only Luter tolerated me. That’s why I married him, to get rid of everyone else. And if it weren’t for this story, everything would have worked out for us. I’m sure of it. The main thing in life is to find the one person who will understand you and go with them wherever life takes you. And it doesn’t matter how that path ends. And now I don’t regret going with him. A few months of pure happiness were worth all this darkness that I now have to pay for.

“Take everything there is! I’ll pay all the bills, and you will all leave me alone!” Right after my words, the door creaks open. I'm afraid to peek out. My blood stops, my breathing was already barely noticeable, and now it’s gone altogether. An adrenaline tremor runs through my body. I listen, preparing to pounce on the uninvited guest when he comes closer. I hear light footsteps. He’s getting closer.

“Stop!” I sharply throw open the blanket, but I can’t stand up. The raccoons with their pups in their teeth freeze for a moment. They look at me with understanding and sympathy. They walk the remaining distance to the drawer lined with warm clothes. They lay the babies down, lie next to them, wrapping them with their bodies.

“Forgive the crazy woman,” I sit on the edge of the bed, looking affectionately at the sleeping babies, who are snoring in their parents’ thick fur.

“It was a long day for all of us,” I look through the dusty window at the darkening sky.

“I need to wash the windows and clean up tomorrow. The babies need a clean house,” I gently stroke the whole family so no one feels left out. I lie down under the blanket, remembering my time with Luter.

“We didn’t get a chance to start our own family,” I whisper to myself, hoping Luter will keep the conversation going. It would be strange, though. That’s why I’m speaking in a whisper, unsure if I want him to hear or not.

“It would have been a good family,” a voice next to me says dreamily. I won’t make the same mistake again. I overcome my fear and look at the one lying beside me.

“Luter,” I say, hugging him through my tears. “Am I dreaming you? You’re so real. Just as warm,” I press myself even closer.

“I don’t know how it happens that I sometimes end up beside you,” he smiles uncertainly. “Sometimes they allow me to come, and sometimes you can beg all you like.”

“Who allows it?” I want to unravel at least one mystery.

“Forgive me, I can’t say. If I do, they won’t let me come to you anymore. That’s the one rule I’m never going to break,” Luter says decisively, extinguishing any hope of learning anything at all.

“What if it helps free you from them?” I realize how silly the phrase sounds, spoken to the ghost of a dead man.

“Everything happened by mutual agreement. And it’s worth it,” he hugs me with a smile. “Don’t look into this matter. And never get involved with them, even if they make you an offer and mention me. Promise me.”

“Can they come to me? Or have they already come? Is that your crest?” Questions tumble out instead of just enjoying the meeting.

“Promise not to get involved if they come to you,” Luter extracts the promise harshly.

“Fine, I promise,” I agree to the request, which might be the last one.

“Don’t be afraid to leave this place. You can live comfortably in a normal town,” he says, concerned.

“I won’t ever leave if you stay here! This house is ours! And we’ll be here together. I’m ready to live my whole life in a cold apartment if you’re here,” I voice my one condition.

“I definitely will always be here,” Luter smiles sadly. “I don’t want you to spend your life on this place because of me. Try to forget about finding out the reasons for what I did. It was meant to happen. And I knew about it.”

“If I find out myself, will they forbid you from seeing me?” I learned a thing or two about negotiation from the snake.

“I don’t think so. The main condition is that I can’t tell you anything. But you are free to do what you want. I’m afraid that when you find out, they’ll want to take you too,” my worried husband fears.

“Don’t you worry about me. Are you being treated well there, whoever they are?” Now it’s unclear who should worry more about whom.

“I’m fine. Nothing should threaten you if you don’t encroach on their interests. They even allowed me to do something,” he says happily.

“It would be better if they allowed you to return,” I say with a heavy heart.

“I certainly won’t return completely now. And I’m sorry that you had to witness my death and bury me yourself,” Luter regrets my forced circumstances.

“I didn’t bury you alone. Our new neighbors helped me,” I point to the box near the bed. “Can you imagine? They have small children. We live together.”

“I’m glad you became friends,” Luter smiles, looking at me and the family near the bed. “Don’t be upset. I didn’t leave just for nothing. Everything wasn’t for nothing. You’ll understand everything later, and everything will fall into place on its own. Everything is much better than it seems.”

“What’s good about any of this?” I’m surprised by Luter’s unexpectedly joyful words.

“It’s all for the best. You’ll understand yourself later, and I have to go,” he kisses me and leaves.

“No! Wait! Stop! Stay a little longer!” I wake up from a rush of emotion, hugging Luter’s pillow. That’s why it was so soft and warm. “I hope that wasn’t just a dream,” the babies’ mother looks at me with a supportive gaze, pressing close to her family. “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. I’ll try to, too. Maybe he’ll come to me in a dream again. Or maybe he won’t. I don’t know anything now. I just need to go to sleep.”

“Good morning,” I look into the box early in the morning. The little ones are here, but their parents aren’t. The door is open; they might have gone to the forest for food. I don’t have anything to give them. I need to buy some food too.

“Thank you, Luter, for leaving real money so I won’t have to pass off yellow leaves as gold,” I smile, imagining my husband’s expression. I get out of bed.

“I didn’t think I could look this bad,” I feel sick looking at myself like this in the mirror. I need to tidy myself up. There’s no firewood. I’ll try something unconventional. I hope it goes as smoothly as last time. I try to lift the indoor door off its hinges. It’s heavy. I use more strength. I can’t lift it to the required height. My father, even in his old age, compensated for his lack of strength with an abundance of wit and resourcefulness.

“Don’t run off anywhere,” I tell the sleepy children. I throw on my jacket and go downstairs. This morning is even grayer than yesterday. There’s no sign of the coveted sun. The bright colors of the forest are fading before my eyes. I head to the shed where the raccoon suggested I should find a shovel.

“Thank you, good people, you knew I would need it,” the shovel stands against the wall, next to a pitchfork, a sledgehammer, and a crowbar.

“That’s what I need,” I grab the crowbar.

“It’s heavy, not much lighter than the door,” I drag it with a clang up the stairs to the apartment.

“Okay, this goes here,” I slip the flat edge under the door and place a book under the crowbar. I lean on it with my frail weight.

“Hooray!” the door lifts and comes off its hinges.

“Oh, my goodness!” I didn’t think about it falling on me. All I can do is close my eyes, bracing for the impact from above. I sit, huddled. I can’t imagine how hard I’m about to be hit on the head. The door won’t spare my back either. I hope I don’t get completely crushed. That freely falling door is taking a long time to drop. Or is it the other way around? The heavier an object is, the longer it takes to fall.

“How could you put yourself in such danger?” I open my eyes. A man stands nearby, holding the door with his hand, which is leaning menacingly over me.

“Thank you for saving me,” I thank the stranger, shaking inside with fear, as I get up.

“How could I allow such an unpleasantness to occur when, by a stroke of luck, I happened to be near?” he smiles a serious smile.

“To what do I owe your visit?” I return to the mirror, quickly tidying my hair so I don’t look completely dreadful in front of the stranger. My voice catches. In the mirror, I see Luter standing behind him. I spin around abruptly.

“Are you perhaps disturbed?” he asks calmly, leaning the door against the wall.

“Everything’s fine. So, why did you come?” I repeat the question, which the stranger accidentally or intentionally avoided answering.

“I came on behalf of your husband,” he says convincingly and seriously. It gives the impression that Luter is alive and that they know each other.

“You know Luter?” I mask my slight surprise. I don’t show my hand right away; I want to know the purpose of his visit.

“Yes, we know each other,” he smiles like he’s in control. “Allow me the audacity to note that it’s for longer than you. Not much longer. My name is Rodéss. Luter called you a blooming flower. He didn’t mention your name.”

“Luter almost named me. Jasmine,” I say my name, which I haven’t spoken to anyone in a long time.

“A beautiful name. It truly corresponds to your husband’s description,” Rodéss smiles flatteringly. “I’d say more. But I’ll refrain. That would be unprofessional.”

“Under what circumstances did you meet?” I bring the conversation back to business.

“We were united by an agreement. I can’t tell you exactly what it was. I can only reveal one of the duties assigned to me,” his serious tone softens with respect for the young woman. He wouldn’t speak so gently to a man of this type.

“And what duty did my husband impose on you?” I look at Luter in the mirror over Rodéss’s shoulder.

“I am now personally tasked with ensuring that your life proceeds peacefully and in moderate comfort. Personally, I’m willing to add a touch of luxury and polish to your life,” Rodéss’s seriousness shifts to a playful smile.

“There’s no need for that,” I reply coldly and sternly. Luter looks at me proudly from behind Rodéss’s shoulder.

“It’s your right to accept or refuse my personal desire,” his tone becomes more serious than before. “I am obliged to fulfill the terms of the agreement, whether by your will or against it.”

“How can one be forced to accept help if the person doesn’t need it?” the conversation is accelerating rapidly. If I don’t stop, a serious debate will break out. “Fine. Let’s suppose I agree to the help my husband arranged with you. What would it involve?”

“Security, provisions for warmth, clothing, and food,” he lists them as if from a checklist.

“Right now, nothing and no one is threatening me,” I state firmly, realizing there are more threats than I realize. “You can guard my peace invisibly, as long as you don’t disturb it yourself.”

“Of course,” he immediately agrees to the first condition.

“I wouldn’t mind some warmth for comfort. But I don’t see how you’ll do that. Will you haul firewood from the forest and become my stoker?” I wonder how he envisions this.

“We have arranged a special service for you in this house,” he pulls an axe from beneath his cloak.

“Does that service involve killing me?” I try not to lose my composure. “No person, no need to keep anyone warm?”

“Nonsense,” Rodéss smiles. “One of the conditions is to preserve your life. We will limit ourselves to heating the room,” he swings the axe and chops up the door that was taken off its hinges. “Your quick-witted husband noticed early on that the doors can be used as firewood. They will always return to their places.”

“Tell me, esteemed Rodéss,” I now regret saying “esteemed“; he might think I’m softening toward him. I even called him by name. Mistake after mistake. “Wouldn’t it have been simpler to create a self-replenishing supply of firewood?”

“Of course, it would be simpler,” he admits the complexity of the current option. “Unfortunately, we cannot do that. There was never any firewood in this house. We can’t change anything. But the doors were and always will be, regardless of what happens to them.”

“That’s a little strange, don’t you think?” I try to draw Rodéss out.

“Everything here is strange,” he says in the voice of a plain man. “One has to reconcile with the circumstances. Do you have warm clothing? Or should I bring new clothes?”

“Thank you, I’m not quite a destitute beggar,” the phrase deeply wounds my pride.

“I ask for your forgiveness if I offended you,” he nods in a gesture of humble regret and respect.

“It’s nothing. Let’s forget this unpleasant moment, on the condition that it won’t happen again,” I show the magnanimity I was accustomed to displaying toward servants in my parents’ home.

“It will never happen again. If you wish for new warm clothing when yours wears out, just let me know, and it will appear. Allow me to inquire, will you refuse food if I bring it?”

“You would certainly simplify my life a bit,” I admit that I wouldn’t turn down a meal.

“In that case, I will go and find provisions for you. And you, meanwhile, warm up a bath and restore yourself to your usual blooming appearance,” he heads toward the open front door.

“Hold on,” I stop Rodéss a step before he reaches the exit.

“Something else?” he turns, expecting my instructions.

“Would you mind chopping some firewood for the campfire?” I look at the axe stuck into the detached door.

“I must apologize. The conditions clearly state: ‘to provide’, not ‘to serve,'“ he smiles with restraint and leaves. I look in the mirror. Luter shrugs regretfully.

“Don’t close the door all the way,” I don’t get a chance to say. Rodéss has shut the door completely. I immediately walk over and open it. No one is visible or audible. My new neighbors appear on the steps. I let the parents in with the children, and go inside with them.

“Did you see a man on the steps?” I ask the silent raccoons. They only look at me with mild bewilderment.

“Never mind. Yes, considerable effort lies ahead for cleanliness and beauty,” I struggle to pull the heavy axe out of the door. I manage to move my foot away; otherwise, it would have fallen right onto my knee under its own weight.

“Well, let’s get started,” I raise the axe high into the air with both hands, the way Rodéss did. I bring the menacing tool down onto the wooden surface of the door. The blade lands next to the spot where Rodéss struck. Blow after blow, my strength ebbs away just lifting the axe. The result strongly resembles doors shattered from a fall. I manage to split off a few boards. I spend a little more time on this primitive activity. I can’t imagine how people back then had enough strength and patience to chop with stone axes.

“That’s it!” I rejoice at my victory over the first door.

“Do you think this will be enough to heat the bathwater?” the mother of the family looks at me with doubt, feeding her babies insects they found in the forest. The second door awaits its turn.

“Warming up?” the snake on the coat of arms that has appeared on the wall near the door smirks.

“You’re right, I warmed up while I was chopping,” I admit that Rodéss cleverly arranged a workout for me.

“Did his arrival not alarm you?” she asks in a mysterious tone.

“You’d better tell me what all this means? What were you discussing all night and morning?” I continue chopping the boards into firewood.

“We think that the appearance of this Rodéss is no accident,” the lion says seriously.

“Oh, really?” I hide my tired laugh, which wants to burst out, behind sarcasm. “I already figured that out myself. Luter was with him in the mirror.” My axe blows weaken. I feel as if I am chopping not a door, but my husband’s body. I don’t want to wound him, even though he is no longer alive. This thought gives me strength. I chop even harder. “The question is, who is this Rodéss, and how are they connected?”

“That we do not know,” the snake says powerlessly.

“I’ll give you one clue,” I look magnanimously at the coat of arms. “They have some kind of agreement. By the terms of this contract, Rodéss is obligated to provide for my safety, food, clothing, and warmth.”

“It shows, how he’s warming you up,” the lion jokes.

“And he’s doing a good job,” I continue, bringing the axe down on the boards.

“You let a stranger into the apartment so boldly,” the snake is surprised, looking at me as if I were a frivolous girl.

“Let’s start with the fact that Rodéss possibly saved my life. Or protected me from injuries I could have received due to my inexperience in removing doors from hinges,” I feel gratitude after my own words. “And, by the way, I didn’t let him in. He came in on his own. Without my permission. As you can see, he didn’t kill me, which is good. Luter was silent next to him. He didn’t say anything bad. Nothing good either, it’s true. He kept quiet, which reassures me a little. Rodéss came on his behalf. The husband’s stated conditions don’t sound like a threat. Quite the opposite. I’m glad that even from the afterlife he cares about me.”

“Are you grateful to Luter for the help, or to Rodéss?” the snake asks suspiciously.

“To both,” I answer firmly, remembering their shared reflection in the one mirror. “If you aren’t going to help, at least don’t interfere,” I gather the chopped boards and carry them to the bathroom.

“Don’t rush to accept help from strangers,” the lion says seriously. “You never know where it will lead until the consequences arrive,” the coat of arms vanishes.

“I know that myself,” I whisper, arranging the firewood under the bath. I fill it with water. The ventilation is set up so that the smoke should go out like a chimney. “Now we’ll find out how everything is supposed to work.” I put paper from the table underneath and light it with almost dry matches. The sheet on which the coat of arms with my blood was drawn burns with a red flame, gradually turning yellow, merging into a uniform warm color with the rest of the fire. My eyes water from the smoke. I exhale the air I took in, blowing on the fire. Coughing, I run out. I close the door, leaving a small gap for air to enter. The smoke billows, gathering into a human figure. “Luter?”

“You’re a good girl,” my husband praises me in the wavering smoke cloud. “I didn’t think you’d manage it on the first try.”

“I didn’t think so either,” I say in a soft, tired voice.

“Were you crying again?” he runs a warm, smoky hand along my cheek.

“Not out of sadness,” I smile at my husband, trying to take his hand. The smoke escapes elusively between my fingers. “The fire made me sweat and cry,” I wipe my red, damp eyes.

“Try to keep yourself in check. The weak-spirited are quicker to be conquered by pressure,” he advises in a serious and caring tone.

“Do you have a contract with him? With Rodéss?” I ask, knowing I won’t hear an answer. Luter only smiles sadly. “Why were you silent in the mirror when we were talking?”

“Rodéss stood between us. My strength is not enough to bypass a living barrier from these places,” Luter explains, admitting his weakness.

“The apartment and the forest?” I try to find out at least a crumb to know what to think about.

“No. I’m talking about the place where I am. Where Rodéss came from,” he looks anxiously out the window. “Go wash up. He’ll be back soon. I hope to see you again,” he kisses me imperceptibly. The smoke rapidly departs through the slightly ajar bathroom door.

“Luter,” I whisper after him. I cautiously look into the bathroom, inhaling fresh air instead of smoke. Coals are smoldering under the bath. I touch the water. The temperature is perfect. And the coals keep the water from cooling down. I take fresh clothes and put them on a chair in the corner. I close the door, remove my dirty clothes that have absorbed all my pain and worries recently. I put them aside. I lower my foot into the bath with distrust. So far, so good. I put my second foot in. My breath catches from the hidden fear inside. “I need to wash up,” I lie down in the hot water. My body warms up comfortably after the cold apartment. “This is wonderful. Thank you, Luter,” I thank my husband, imagining him in front of me.

“I see I came back early,” I hear Rodéss’ voice from the room.

“I spent a long time chopping the wood,” I try not to justify myself, but to imply that he could have helped.

“That’s nothing. Everyone takes a long time chopping at first,” he chuckles softly. “Then you’ll get used to it and stop noticing how the process goes. One minute it was a door, and the next, boards burning under the bath.” Rodéss is not inclined to help me with the firewood. “The food is on the table. When you wash up, eat everything if you want. I’ll bring more later. Now I have to go. Should I give your regards to your husband?”

“No need, thank you. My regards won’t help him in any way,” I answer in a cold tone.

“As you wish, I’m going.”

“He’s finally gone,” I sigh with relief, closing my eyes.

“Not gone yet, but I understand everything. See you,” the door creaks and remains ajar.

“That was awkward,” I open my eyes, feeling a little anxious. I’m worried not so much about Rodéss’ feelings as about the consequences for Luter. I just hope they don’t make things worse for him because of my attitude.

I want to lie on my side and cover myself with the warm water like a blanket. A bath isn’t a bed. What a pity. I need to wash myself properly before the coals go out. The first thing to do is wash my hair. That’s where most of the worry has stayed. They’ve soaked up all my heavy thoughts, anxieties, and the pain of memories, because there won’t be any new ones. I soap the washcloth and, as is my habit, start with my shoulders and arms, remembering how it used to be when Luter was alive.

We laughed and chatted about all sorts of nonsense. It’s good that he still comes to me, even in this form. I don’t feel like he’s gone. It seems like he’s just left for a short while and will be back soon. I just need to wait. I feel calmer. Then I remember that the real, living Luter will never come back. Immediately, my heart feels heavy and my thoughts turn sad. I try not to think about it. The thoughts just force their way into my head. I wish they’d let Luter come here and take care of me instead of this Rodéss.

And they chose the most serious one. Or maybe not the most serious. Given the possible place he came from, I think I'm lucky they didn’t send someone worse. Who could be normal when associated with this house and the death of my husband? My hands are stinging. Is the water getting hotter? No. The calluses from the axe have broken. Now, the skin doesn’t protect the exposed flesh. I feel completely vulnerable with the wounds. Even the warm water causes pain. I’ll stay here a little longer until the water cools down. I don’t want to go back out there. It’s warm and cozy here, and it smells like a bonfire. It’s so good. I close my eyes in pleasure. I feel myself slowly falling asleep. My whole body relaxes.

“Don’t sleep,” Luter tells me, appearing as fleeting images in a dream.

“Why? It’s so nice here,” I argue with my husband out of habit, knowing you shouldn’t lie in the bath for too long.

“Get up,” Luter insists. “You need to wake up.”

“What for? You’d like it. The water is so good. It’s better here than in bed.”

“Jasmine! Get up!” Luter never shouted at me. I wake up in indignation and surprise. In the dream, the warm water level was up to my nose. A little more and I would have drowned without knowing what was happening.

“Thank you, darling,” I think I’m alive.

I rinse the remaining soap from my body. I stand up and dry myself with a heated towel. I put on fresh clothes. I take the old ones with me. I go outside and place them by the front door. The groceries are neatly laid out on the table. It looks like Rodéss visited our greedy acquaintance. I pour a glass of red homemade wine. I drink it down right away. It goes down like grape juice. I start eating. Out of necessity. Food was only a joy with my husband. Without Luter, I wouldn’t eat at all, but I’m afraid of ending up beside him from malnutrition.

“I don’t know if you eat this or not,” I give part of the food to the family in the box.

They like it. The parents chew calmly, and the little ones rush somewhere. Like all children, they are rushing to live. Only with age do you realize: the sooner you understand how fleeting time is, the longer you will live. The sleep in the warm water and the food with wine have relaxed me completely. I don’t want to go to bed now and then wake up in the middle of the night. Let the most terrifying time pass unnoticed while I sleep. Dying in your sleep isn’t scary. But it’s better to take a walk during the day. I leave a little food. I throw on my jacket. I take the bottle of solvent and the dirty clothes. I leave the door ajar. I walk away from the house. I arrange the clothes in a neat pile, pour the solvent over them, and set them on fire.

“Burn, bad memories. You have no power over me,” I peer at the bodiless flames with the blackening, colorful base of the burning clothes. I don’t want to say anything else, so I don’t bring misfortune upon anyone. I cover the burnt spot with a multi-year layer of rotten leaves mixed with the recently fallen ones. I return to the house and put down the bottle of solvent.

“Can I go for a short walk?” I ask Luter for permission.

“Of course, darling. It’s a beautiful day for a walk,” not having heard an answer, I answer myself. “Just come back before dark, there are wolves out there.”

“There you go again with your jokes. You invented the wolves,” I laugh, imagining Luter’s smile. “What if there really are predators? The raccoons wouldn’t survive then, especially an entire family.”

“Alright, I’ll listen to you, my wise husband. I’ll walk until dark and not far from the house, so I can run away if anyone attacks,” the main thing is to run faster than the enemy. I might have some problems with that. I haven’t run in a long time. A clear example is the day Luter ran after me while I rode my bike easily. I’ve become unused to walking. I need to remember. There’s no bike here, and you can’t exactly ride through the forest.

“I should have taken a basket for mushrooms,” but I don’t know which ones are edible. I have my own experts at home now. The raccoons certainly know which mushrooms are okay to eat and which aren’t.

“What if the raccoons don’t eat mushrooms at all?” I didn’t take the basket, and that’s fine. What would I do with those mushrooms afterward?

“Jasmine,” Rodéss catches up to me. “I apologize for intruding and invading your personal space. It is part of my duties for your safety.”

“I believe we came to an agreement. You guard me discreetly,” I remind him of the condition.

“Don’t worry about my memory. I remember every word. Just keep in mind that a hunter’s bullet or a bee’s sting can reach your body unnoticed before I even see you fall. Time determines how I should act, depending on the situation,” Rodéss smoothly joins my solitary walk.

“Fine, you can walk beside me. But I don’t understand how you can protect me from sudden danger even by being close? A bullet will fly past you and hit me. Why needlessly endure an overbearing person from who knows where? And since we’re talking about sides, whose side are you on?” I overwhelm him with questions, just as I used to do with Luter.

“Being close, it is within my power to do something more than from a distance. The probability of being hit by a bullet, divided between us, gives you an advantage compared to walking alone,” he consistently fends off my attacks. “And let’s not try to figure out where I came from or whose side I am on. Everything you need to know, you know. Tell me,” he abruptly stops at the intersection of two forest paths and looks intently into my eyes. “Do you want to join Luter right now?”

“Join Luter?” For a second, my whole being strains toward him. A possible meeting flashes before my eyes. I don’t manage to answer before a golden leaf falls on my shoulder. Nothing strange in an autumn forest. Except we are standing under fir trees. I hope I interpret the sign correctly. “No, thank you,” I walk around Rodéss. “Why would you ask that?”

“Just a question,” the guardian answers calmly.

“Then a counter-question. Where would you like to be right now?” There could be many answer options. If I don’t find out where Luter is, at least I can study my companion a little.

“Definitely not here,” I have never heard a more certain answer.

“And why is that? Don’t you like my company?” I try to discern any emotion in Rodéss’ eyes. In front of me is an unapproachable gaze that the most outstanding psychologist couldn’t penetrate.

“It is nice here, beautiful. Under different circumstances. Right now there is more tension than peace,” he looks with distaste at the surrounding, half-bare trees. “You are a smart girl. Pleasant, beautiful, a little cunning, strong. I’ve never seen such self-control after a husband’s death. Not every man is capable of taking a dead body down from a noose and not going insane. Everything about you is wonderful. The only drawback? You are not mine. No matter how wonderful a person is, if they are not meant for you, all of their qualities will never reveal themselves, which means they are equal to zero. And that is not the worst scenario.”

“Are there worse things?” my companion wonders aloud.

“Much worse—when a stranger turns all your finest qualities against you. It doesn’t matter why. Defense, offense, revenge, resentment. I can picture the force with which you would unleash all your strongest assets and abilities to destroy me. We both understand why you’re not doing that,” he smirks, feeling his security.

“And why is that?” I ask, genuinely curious to know what protects the self-assured Rodéss.

“Destroying me doesn’t guarantee Luter’s return. If I were gone, you wouldn’t have a single chance to even find out where he is,” a smug smile doesn’t leave his face. “And now you know one important thing.”

“Care to share so I know what important thing I now know?” his confidence is starting to become slightly irritating.

“Right now, I am on your side. Bound by an unbreakable word due to the situation. And only I can protect you from this place,” the smile shifts to seriousness, suggesting that everything is much graver than it seems.

“Wait, so this place is beyond your control? You exist separately? What is this place? And who are you?” questions fly from me again like knives.

“Yes, beyond our control. Yes, we exist separately. The place,” he pauses, considering. “It’s just a place. Only, no one knows exactly what is wrong with it. The entire neighborhood moved as far away from here as possible. Some have left for other countries. Who I am, I won’t tell you. If you figure it out yourself, I won’t deny the truth, but for now, please don’t ask that question pointlessly anymore. It’s getting dark. We need to go back.”

“So, you’re also aware of what could happen to me here,” the realization sends a chill down my spine. For a second, I regret promising Luter never to leave this place. And I can’t abandon it, even though I'm free to act thanks to his permission. “Would it be much easier for you if I left?” I ask Rodéss directly.

“It would be easier for everyone,” he answers without a hint of deceit or pretense. “You would start a new life instead of constantly fearing the unknown and the unforeseen things that might happen here. Luter will stop appearing over time. You won’t have to waste energy and time on him. The place will calm down again.”

“And would it be much easier for you if I left?” Right now, the most important thing is to study the person closest to me, so I know what to expect from him.

“I won’t say it would be much easier. I have a lot of work. I won’t say that your mere existence and presence cause me absolutely no inconvenience. There are more unpleasant cases. Your disappearance won’t heavily impact me. Stay until you join Luter by your own will, fate decides, or the place compels you. You can always leave later. You can stay, get your nerves tickled, if living so boringly and peacefully bothers you, and you don’t want a normal life.”

“There won’t be a normal life anymore,” I realize Rodéss doesn’t care. No one cares about me or my problems. Only I, Rodéss, the raccoons, the house, and the forest know about my husband’s death. “I’d better stay and see how all this ends for me. I’ll be here until the place sends me to Luter.”

“I’m warning you right away, it might not send you; it might just trap you forever. You’ll become a part of the place,” each word is more serious than the last. I don’t know if this is concern or intimidation. Perhaps he is driven by the word he gave Luter.

“None of that matters if Luter comes to me even sometimes,” I never thought I could be so stubbornly determined to stay in a hostile place.

“I’ll tell you straight away, the place is unpredictable. There are no guarantees that Luter will come,” this news strips me of my self-confidence and certainty about the situation. Strength and persistence are scarce here.

“Fine. I’ll think about everything you said,” I leave Rodéss near the house.

“You’re wrong to refuse my presence in the apartment. Daytime is the safest. The place wakes up at night,” at the mere mention of the night, the vision by candlelight appears. I just can’t get rid of that memory. If Luter hadn’t had the scar, I would have confidently thought it was a dream.

“I’ll manage somehow,” I coldly leave Rodéss, like tying a dog to its kennel.

“Just in case, don’t go near the water, don’t go out on the balcony, don’t look out the windows. Be careful with fire. Try to find the safest spot and don’t react to anything. If something happens, call for me. At night, don’t even trust Luter’s appearance. It might not be him. To be sure, I can prevent him from coming here at night.”

“Let him come,” I know I’m taking a risk. No one knows how many encounters we have left.

“I’m practically powerless if you shut yourself off from me like this,” I hear Rodéss’s faint voice near the apartment door.

“Then leave me alone. I release you from your promise,” where does all this pride come from? What makes me say these words? The place?

“If anything, I’m close by. Scream in case of anything unusual. If you can’t scream, throw something out the window,” the guard tries to negotiate at least something, hoping I will meet him halfway and make his life easier.

“Will you replace the window for me afterward?” I ask from the balcony.

“I’ll replace it, don’t worry,” he answers with a smile.

“We’ll see how strong your word is then. Good night!” I close the balcony door.

“That would be nice,” Rodéss’s voice barely reaches me from below.

“How are you all doing here?” I check if the family is in place. “I'm sorry I locked the door for the night. There’s a draft coming from there. And who knows who might want to drop by uninvited. Like that Rodéss, for example. I know he’s an enemy to us. He’s why Luter isn’t here. I don’t even know where my husband is right now. But I’m grateful to this insistent guard for being near. Just don’t tell him, so he doesn’t get conceited,” I whisper to the raccoons, who are listening intently to me.

“What do I hear?” the snake from the crest that appeared on the floor whispers suspiciously.

“Stop eavesdropping on our neighborly conversations,” I reply harshly. I tolerate the lion, but the snake’s unbearable female nature is starting to wear me out. She’s always poking her nose into my business.

“This guy is starting to grow on you,” I don’t know how, but emotion is visible even in the snake’s gaze. I don’t like those emotions.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Rodéss is my and Luter’s enemy. And that is unchangeable!”

“Rodéss,” she repeats with a smirk. “Our enemy,” she draws out with a repulsive tone. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll hear?” the snake plays with me like a little girl.

“He knows perfectly well that I have no intention of being his friend. They took Luter from me,” I don’t want to hide my indignation. And yet, I try to speak a little quieter. After all, I don’t know how things really are. I don’t know exactly what role Rodéss plays in all of this.

“Stop harassing her!” the lion stops the snake. “We just want to say that here and now, you must be cautious with everyone you barely know.”

“I know even less about you,” I remind the recently appeared family crest.

“We are not your enemies,” the lion states convincingly.

“How do I know that? You can’t be sure of anything right now. Try to help, or don’t interfere with your suspicions and silly advice,” what is wrong with me? I don’t remember being so rude. And I can be understood. I haven’t known everyone currently in my circle for long enough to draw any conclusions. “Rodéss, unlike you, is close by and physical. He can at least do something if something happens to me.”

“Physical?” the snake repeats with disbelief. “Can do something?” she smirks. “If something happens to you, even he won’t be able to help. Unless it happens through his fault.”

“What are these attacks? What are you hinting at?” my patience is running out with this snake. “If you know something, tell me. Then we can talk as equals with the same information. If you don’t want to share your knowledge, don’t mock me.”

“Jasmine is right,” the lion takes my side, understanding that being in an unpredictable, spooky place with a lack of knowledge is much harder for me right now than it is for them, who are painted on the crest and know more. “Our job is to warn you.”

“I already know I need to be cautious and ready for anything. That’s impossible. You understand that yourselves. Tell me what you know. Please,” I beg, as if they were close friends.

“We’re sorry, we’re not allowed to say what we know, or you won’t like the consequences,” the lion replies regretfully.

“What consequences? What will happen to me just for finding out a little more than what I already know?” sincere heartfelt pleading borders on indignation.

“Luter said then he wouldn’t be allowed to come to you anymore,” the lion reminds me of the conversation with my husband.

“Have you warned me? That’s enough secrets for me today. None of you talk to me; you just give me new and new riddles. I’m sick of everyone! Get out!” I stomp my foot on the crest. The snake and the lion vanish before the sole of my shoe contacts the wooden floorboards. The hollow sound of the floorboard echoes off the black night windowpanes.

“Is everything alright?” Rodéss shouts from outside.

“No! It’s not alright! You’re all driving me crazy! Stop eavesdropping!” I try to shout loudly enough for everyone who might be tempted to hear.

“It’s my job!” Rodéss justifies himself.

“I know!” I shout louder than usual. “I’m sorry, little ones, is Auntie scaring you?” I pet the babies in the box. “It’s a mistake that you settled with me. It’s much more dangerous near me than in the forest. Don’t worry about me; even if I disappear, it’s no big deal. You should protect your own little ones,” I try to convince the parents. “If anything happens tonight, don’t interfere. If I get hurt, I’ll be alone. Take care of yourselves. If you decide to leave, I’ll open the door in the morning. Good night to all of us,” I wrap myself in the blanket, holding back tears.

“I didn’t sleep during the day, so why the insomnia now?” I try to make sense of myself, voicing the least of my problems.

“Can’t sleep?” Luter asks from behind me.

“Darling, you’ve come back to me,” I turn, pleased by his welcome visit.

“How could I not come to my beloved wife?” he smiles an uncharacteristically restrained smile.

“Has something happened? Are you upset?” Such changes in Luter only started after the Crossroads of Opportunity. Before that, all his emotions were pure, truly sincere, with no hidden feelings.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, sounding distressed, in a low voice. “Lately, I’ve been having nightmares.”

“What kind? Tell me about them. I’ll try to share the unpleasant things with you, just as I promised at the altar,” listening to someone else’s nightmares makes it easier to forget my own.

“Every day, I dream that I get out of bed at night while you’re sleeping. I find an old rope, as if it was prepared for me in advance. There’s even a bar of soap next to it. I don’t know why, but every time I have this dream, I walk into the room, stand on a stool in the right spot. I don’t know who puts it there every time. I tie one end of the rope to a hook sticking out of the ceiling. I rub the knot with soap and slip the noose over my neck. It’s strange, my head easily passes through the loop,” he smiles, surprised by the coincidence of the noose’s size matching his head. “Then someone kicks the stool out from under my feet. I fall like a stone into the abyss to the crunching of my neck vertebrae. I don’t even have time to suffocate. It barely hurts. I wake up next to you. And our morning starts all over again,” he hugs me with his usual tenderness.

“Tell me, are you sleeping right now?” I want to know if I’m dreaming.

“Of course not,” he answers confidently. “In my nightmare, you always stay asleep in bed. Right now, you’re awake and I’m right here.”

“And when I fall asleep, will you feel drawn to the noose?” a chilling shiver runs through me.

“Every time I hope that tonight the dream won’t repeat itself. But every time I live through the same thing. It’s good that you don’t see my dream,” he sighs peacefully, relieved that I don’t have to witness the horror Luter experiences every night.

“Luter,” I address him seriously. “Do you know the name Rodéss?”

“Why do you ask?” my husband’s face becomes serious, even a little frightened. He sits up slightly on the pillow.

“I heard the name somewhere, I can’t remember where. I probably read it in a book. Why are you so worried? Lie back down, don’t let the cold in under the blanket,” I wrap him up again.

“It’s nothing. Everything’s fine,” the anxiety doesn’t leave his face. “Let’s try to sleep,” he pulls me close to him.

“Alright,” I leave one eye slightly open. Luter is staring at the ceiling. He glances at me, checking whether or not I’m sleeping. I try to breathe evenly, then close my eyes completely. I move my eyeballs around to make him think I’m dreaming.

“Sleep, darling,” he whispers, kissing my cheek. He gets out of bed. He walks carefully toward the kitchen. He searches for something. He returns with a rope. He rubs the noose with soap, just as he described. He stands on the stool, hooks the free end to the hook in the ceiling. He slips the noose over his neck, smiling that it passed easily over his head. He stands calmly and waits. He doesn’t do anything. A dark silhouette approaches, kicking the stool out from under his feet. I jump out of bed, lighting the prepared candle with dry matches—I had specially dried them near the fire under the bathtub. I turn on the light. Luter is hanging in the noose, in the same state I found him that morning. At the same time, Luter is standing near the table. That time, the candle burned his hand. Now, there is distance between us.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.

“My neck hurts,” he replies, rubbing his neck where the rope is currently around the hanging body.

“Let me give you a massage. Get back in bed,” I suggest, understanding how hard it is to overcome myself. Right now, I want to run out of the apartment in terror. Abandon everything. I don’t need these memories of my husband. A dead husband who speaks is the hardest presence for me.

“That’s generous of you,” I hear a voice from the bed. I turn around. Luter is lying in his spot, waiting for me.

“I’m coming,” I turn back around. Luter is neither by the table nor hanging in the noose. The stool lies knocked over on the floor. In the corner stands Rodéss, holding a finger to his lips, signaling me not to give away that he’s here. A wave of horror constantly runs through my body. I give Rodéss a barely perceptible nod. I lie down in bed next to Luter. I set the candle down near the bed, next to the crate.

“Please blow out the candle,” my husband asks. “The light is hurting my eyes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. The dark frightens me,” I say softly, hiding the fact that he frightens me more than the darkness. Right now, Luter is my frightening darkness.

“Blow out the candle!” he raises his voice at me, something he never did before.

“Luter,” I try to calm my husband.

“Blow it out, I said!” he looms over me menacingly.

“Rodéss!” I cry out in a panic.

“Get out!” Rodéss swiftly comes to my bed, slicing Luter in half with a white-hot sword blade. The frozen image of Luter dissolves into the air. The candle flame wavers, then settles.

“Who was that?” I ask Rodéss in horror.

“I don’t know,” he opens his palm, and the sword is absorbed into his hand. “Did he manage to do anything?” he examines my face anxiously, leaning closer.

“You got here in time, thank you,” I thank my savior, realizing that before, we would have instantly recoiled from each other, but now I can’t bring myself to send him away.

“We were lucky this time,” he whispers, looking around the apartment. “Why didn’t you scream like I told you to?” he complains seriously.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to find out what was going on. A foolish, curious girl.”

“And? Did you find out?” he looks at me skeptically.

“Not particularly,” I admit my unsuccessful attempt. “I saw all of this that night. There’s one thing I don’t understand. Luter was calmly standing on the stool with the noose around his neck. A silhouette approached him in the dark and kicked the stool out from under his feet. Who was it?”

“And who did you see when you lit the candle?” I realize what Rodéss is getting at. He saw everything.

“When the candle lit, Luter was standing in front of me. Did he kick the stool out from under himself, and then lie down in bed? And how did you get here if the door was locked?” I don’t know whether to suspect Rodéss of something. What if this is an illusion created by him?

“I don’t need keys. We enter abandoned houses by our own will. Walls and doors are no obstacle,” he opens my eyes to my defenselessness against him and his kind. “Don’t be afraid. I will only enter your place during difficult situations.”

“I’m not afraid,” I answer calmly, but in truth, I’m afraid of everyone and everything.

“Can you sleep alone in the apartment?” he asks considerately.

“Don’t go,” I’m surprised by my own request. “Can you stay with me?”

“You only have one bed,” he says with a smile.

“Lie down next to me. But only with your clothes on, and not under the blanket. That’s my personal space,” I pull the blanket closer to myself.

“Alright,” Rodéss lies down next to me, not even taking off his cloak.

“How did you know something was wrong?” I turn my back to him calmly.

“I felt movement in your apartment. The light wasn’t on. I figured you wouldn’t be walking around the dark apartment. I realized it wasn’t you. I entered. You know the rest,” he tells me calmly, avoiding details.

“What did you see when you came up?” I want to confirm that I wasn’t the only one who saw it.

“Everything you saw,” he says what I want to hear.

“No, tell me everything,” I insist, turning to him with a serious look.

“It initially felt strange to see Luter, knowing that no one would let him come to you tonight, under my orders. And yes, the stool was also kicked out from under his feet by Luter. The non-real one, that is. If that’s what you’re asking. There’s one thing I don’t understand. If you knew it wasn’t the real Luter, why did you let him into your bed?” a hint of jealousy seems hidden in his words.

“I’m trying to figure out what I can. You aren’t telling me anything,” I turn away, hiding a smile under the blanket.

“Forgive me. It’s better for all of us not to know certain things,” he becomes softer and more vulnerable.

“What shouldn’t you know?” I turn toward him. My protector’s face is covered in the warm yellow light emanating from the candle. This makes Rodéss seem warm and close. It’s good that my face is hidden from him in the shadows. That way, he can’t see that I’m studying him.

“I don’t want to know anything that goes away when the days end. I want the past to always remain in the past. And the days don’t even end,” he looks at the candle sadly.

“Why don’t the days end? Do you never sleep? For me, the day ends when I close my eyes,” I don’t know what kind of interest this is, but I realize I want to get to know him better.

“The day doesn’t end because a new one doesn’t begin,” he answers mysteriously, not revealing everything.

“What does that mean? Why doesn’t the day end?” I can’t understand, not having experienced such a thing. Or maybe I am experiencing it here. I hadn’t thought about it before. “My days are all similar with fear, tension, and pain. It seems like one day lasts forever. With each passing day, the influence of fear over me lessens. And my sensitivity disappears. So I just wait for this day to end. Is it the same for you?”

“No,” he smiles at my seriousness. “It’s not like that at all. Or it is, but in a different way. For me, the day never ends because I was created on one day that lasts forever. I don’t change, I don’t live, I don’t age. I feel practically nothing. I used to feel absolutely nothing, until recently,” he adds for comparison.

“What have you started to feel?” Emotions are the most interesting thread of a conversation. It’s easier to determine who is next to you by their emotions than by their words and actions.

“Pain. Not ordinary pain. I used to feel a lot of pain. The kind that sharply strikes the body and ends immediately once you overcome it with reason and will. But this is strange. It’s inside. I feel like I’m starting to live. I don’t know what instilled this feeling in me. The pain isn’t from the presence of something, but from absence within. The most unpleasant thing is that only I experience this emptiness inside. That makes it hurt even more. My eternal day continues in the ordinary eternal day. Now my existence has become twice as complicated. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Figure out what you’re missing inside. Fill the void, and then one eternal day will end and life will begin. And when that life begins, the other one will also start moving continuously. You’ll finally start living a real life by filling the emptiness in your soul,” I explain the inexplicable. It’s still so complicated that I’m getting confused myself.

“Are you saying I need to find out what I’m missing inside and just fill the void?” Rodéss turns my many words into a clear thought. I wish I could do that.

“Yes. You understood correctly,” I’m glad I was able to convey the main idea.

“And how am I supposed to find out what I’m missing?” he asks himself the important question, looking seriously at the candle flame.

“Well, look around more closely. All around, and nearby. Your eyes will show you, and your soul will definitely tell you when it sees it,” I don’t take my eyes off Rodéss. I feel an emptiness forming inside me. Painful and pleasant at the same time. Either I’m sensing his feelings, or I’ve developed the same sensation.

“I’ve seen a lot in my life,” he says, looking sadly somewhere near the candle. “Nothing has created or filled the void that’s in me now.”

“You’ve seen a lot,” I repeat, turning to the candle. I follow his gaze. He’s looking at the crate where a family of raccoons is sleeping, huddled together. It’s pleasant to look at, while contemplating what’s missing in life, realizing that my internal emptiness craves exactly this. “Raccoons are happier than we are,” I whisper, touched by their deep, shared sleep.

“What are you saying?” Rodéss returns to me from his deep thoughts.

“We need to sleep,” I don’t want to extend the nighttime conversation past what’s permitted.

“You sleep. I’ll lie next to you,” he lies down on his back, clasping his hands on his chest.

“You should sleep too,” I say almost commandingly.

“I don’t need to. Something might happen. I can’t let him get any closer, like he did today,” Rodéss’ anger at himself for letting the non-real Luter get so close to me sounds in his words. “Sleep,” he roughly adjusts the blanket, covering my shoulder.

“Good night,” I wish Rodéss in a serious tone, smiling lightly.

“If you have a bad dream, wake up immediately. Or I’ll wake you. Don’t endure the pain, or it will stay inside you forever,” he leaves me with one last piece of advice before sleep. I can’t answer anything. My eyes close, and the day finally ends for me.

“Why does my head hurt so much?” I wake up, feeling an intense pain, as if a metal rod has been driven through my temples. “Does your head hurt?” I ask Rodéss.

“No, nothing hurts me,” Luter replies, sitting on the sofa near the table.

“Luter?” I get out of bed, ignoring the severe pain.

“Were you expecting to see someone else?” I don’t know what to say. Everything depends on what he saw. And I don’t know that.

“I saw you last night. Three of you,” I recall the night’s vision.

“Didn’t you see anyone else?” he asks, looking suspicious. “Who slept with you in that bed last night?”

“First, you! The fake you, because the real you abandoned me! Made some deal with someone and left, leaving me here alone!” I defend myself with accusations, realizing that if I don’t defend myself, I’ll be blamed for everything, even his death.

“If you don’t know what the deal was, or who it was with, you’d better not say anything about it!” he nervously stands near the table, just as he stood last night.

“You don’t tell me anything,” I don’t back down from my chosen defensive tone.

“You know yourself I can’t tell you anything, or everything I did will be for nothing! Who was in this bed after that?” he persists, leading to inevitable consequences.

“Rodéss!” I answer honestly. “I have nothing to hide! He protected me from you last night. Or maybe not from you, but he protected me! And he stayed so the attempt by the place wouldn’t happen again!”

“You slept together,” Luter whispers, filling his voice with pure, caustic jealousy.

“Yes, in the same bed. Fully clothed. And there was nothing but talk. If that’s what you’re asking about,” I don’t want to lower my voice when I’m being blamed for everything.

“And what did you talk about?” the angry Luter continues to probe.

“Nothing specific. I don’t even remember,” in fact, I don’t remember anything except the conversation about the emptiness inside. “Please, stop, my head is splitting.”

“It’s splitting, is it?” he places his hand on my head, squeezing his palm. I feel his fingers crushing my skull.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” I scream, grabbing my head with both hands.

“Why are you acting this way?” Luter doesn’t calm down, squeezing his hand harder.

“Stop! This is unbearable!” My scream turns into a hysterical wail with tears.

“Luter,” Rodéss sharply pushes Luter’s hand away. “You’re not yourself.”

“Of course, I’m not myself!” Luter redirects his anger toward Rodéss. “You slept with my wife in the same bed,” if he had the ability to do something, it wouldn’t be limited to powerless words.

“This night was difficult for everyone. Especially for Jasmine. You weren’t here. You can’t understand how hard it is for her. Please, stop doing this, or I will be forced to limit your visits to this world,” Rodéss speaks calmly and firmly, so no one doubts his words.

“Oh, so that’s how you talk now,” blind rage overcomes Luter. “I’m only not with her because of you! Why don’t you want to tell her what happened to me? Because it’s more convenient for you that way? You got rid of me to get closer to her? You’re smarter than I thought.”

“Luter. You’re getting carried away. Calm down. Get a grip. Remember how it all was. We have an honest agreement. Furthermore, it was entirely by your wish and consent. I am honestly fulfilling the terms of the agreement. I do not intend to break my word. Even if you don’t like it,” Rodéss shows through his entire demeanor how determined he is to keep his word, and no one can interfere with that.

“That sounds convenient for you. Everything we agreed upon was only for her sake,” I get the impression that I’ve been forgotten. They are sorting out their relationship privately.

“Luter,” Rodéss says calmly. “You need to calm down. If you don’t control your words, you will say too much and you will never be able to see Jasmine again. Stop.”

“That’s what you want! You want to lock me away forever so you can be with her instead of me!” Luter doesn’t calm down, throwing the main accusations in Rodéss’s face.

“That is a single, unbreakable condition for everyone who makes a deal. I didn’t invent it. By signing the agreement, you consented to all the terms. I keep my word. And you keep yours,” Rodéss’s patience visibly runs out.

“Do you know what we agreed on?” Luter’s eyes widen so much in his fit of anger that I'm terrified just looking at him. “Listen, since you’re interested.”

“If you say it, you will never return!” Rodéss reminds loudly, shouting over the voice of anger in Luter’s thoughts.

“I don’t care! You took her away from me! We agreed that I—,” Rodéss touches Luter’s back with his palm, causing him to dissolve into the air.

“I’m sorry that happened,” Rodéss apologizes sincerely. “I had to, or he would have told you something you shouldn’t know. And that would have been your last conversation. Let him calm down a bit. I’ll let him out when I think you’re no longer in danger. How is your head?”

“Better, but it still hurts. I don’t know why it hurt when I first woke up. But now it hurts from the unpleasant shouting,” I rub my throbbing temples, trying to ease the pain.

“Relax,” Rodéss runs his hand over my head. I feel the pain retreating, following his palm. “Does it still hurt?”

“No,” I realize with surprise that the pain is gone, leaving no trace. “Thank you, that’s so much better. I don’t know who you are, but you have magic hands.”

“And it’s good that you don’t know. Your head hurt when you woke up because the place affected you strongly last night. A person who is unaccustomed to it is affected more intensely than people like me. Rest, and I will go with your neighbors to get some food. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it right away. I didn’t expect Luter to show up with accusations so early.”

“The doors didn’t restore themselves?” I’m surprised not to see the doors on their hinges, as promised.

“We’ll have to wait until next time,” Rodéss smiles for the first time today. “Those were used as firewood for the bath.”

“Did you chop the wood yourself?” I’m even more surprised. “You said you weren’t a servant. And that I had to do everything myself,” I remind him of his proud words.

“Look at your hands,” he reminds me of the unhealed calluses from the axe. “My hands are tough, accustomed to many things, but you need to take care of yours. Clean clothes are in the bathroom. Go wash up. And we’ll go get food,” the raccoon parents leave the apartment with Rodéss.

“It’s like magic,” I confirm that my head doesn’t hurt at all. I’ve never experienced anything like this in my entire life. I get up and stretch. For the first time, I feel relaxed and rested, even despite the unpleasant start to the day. I go straight to the bathroom. What could be better than a hot bath in the morning when you don’t have to rush anywhere? And then the realization hits me that I need to find something to do if I want to stay here longer than until the moment I get completely bored. “And what should I do?” I muse aloud, lying in the bath. “What am I good at? Nothing,” I answer myself, disappointed. Not the best admission, and at the wrong time. Depression is right around the corner.

“Is everything alright?” Rodéss asks through the door.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You've been in there for at least half an hour. And it’s so quiet.”

“Half an hour?” I ponder deeply. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

“And that’s not surprising. You don’t have a single clock. Don’t rush; take as long as you need to wash. I’ll step out so I don’t bother you,” I hear Rodéss’s steps move toward the door.

“You’re not bothering me at all,” I stop the thoughtful man on his final step. I close my eyes, realizing how that sounds. “You can stay here if you want.”

“It’s usually quiet here during the day. Nothing is threatening you,” he reminds me of the place’s features.

“That’s why I'm saying you can stay. Not out of compulsion due to danger, but out of desire,” I'm actually curious what decision he’ll make. I listen closely, as if wanting to hear his thoughts.

“Fine, I’ll stay for a bit,” Rodéss agrees, returning. “What are you so deep in thought about?”

“I need to figure out what to do with my days if I don’t want to die of boredom before this place finishes me off. I haven’t come up with anything yet.”

“Some people choose painting,” he voices a familiar option.

“Are you talking about Luter now?” I guess, recalling our experience with painting the doors.

“Yes, he chose painting. He just didn’t say where he’d be painting. It’s not important to us, as long as he’s busy and doesn’t interfere with the work,” Rodéss says indifferently.

“Is that how you treat everyone?” It sounds like an accusation of cruel treatment.

“After the main point of the contract is fulfilled, the parties carry out the agreed-upon obligations. In their free time, everyone is free to do as they wish. We don’t control that,” Rodéss explains calmly, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“And is this your work time or free time right now?” I wonder how much time he dedicates to me personally.

“It’s not easy to say right off the bat,” he answers, thinking. “It’s always work time for me. If I don’t need to perform direct contractual duties, I can do what I want.”

“And are you performing direct contractual duties right now?” I ask directly to define the boundaries between duty and free time.

“A difficult question for the morning. The contract obligates me to provide you with what’s agreed upon at any time of day or night. I don’t feel like I'm at work,” he admits openly.

“So, it seems this is your free time,” I conclude, smiling. Who doesn’t appreciate it when someone dedicates their personal free time to them out of their own will?

“It seems like free time,” he muses, surprised at himself. “I've never had free time.”

“Why is that?” It’s becoming a habit to pull details of his inner self out of Rodéss.

“I don’t recall my work ever giving me pleasant feelings,” the thoughtful man admits.

“What feelings do you have right now? If it’s not a secret?” I ask before he closes off.

“I don’t know. I just enjoy being here. It feels good in my heart, somehow,” he sips his wine. And I want some too.

“Could you bring me half a glass of wine, please? You drink it so deliciously,” I ask in a soft voice, so it doesn’t sound like I'm treating him like a servant.

“Just a moment,” he pours wine into a glass. He hands it to me through the slightly open door. He immediately closes it as soon as I take the glass.

“What are you doing?” I ask, flinching at the slam.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to let the cold air in,” he apologizes, returning to the sofa.

“Yes, it would be a shame to lose the pleasant warmth. Thank you for such a nice surprise,” I thank him sincerely. “I don’t know who else would do something like this for me, especially here. By the way, you say you enjoy being here. How is that possible when the place is so creepy and unpleasant?” I ask Rodéss, trying to understand why I no longer feel aversion toward this place. Even considering the events that happen here.

“I don’t know. It’s not about the place,” Rodéss replies after a vague pause. “I didn’t want to be here before, either.”

“What changed?” I specify, knowing what I want to hear.

“There was never anyone in this apartment who made me want to talk to them. I was always silent,” he says somewhat sadly.

“You didn’t talk to anyone at all?” I'm surprised, realizing there have been quite a few people.

“Communication with people was limited to discussing and signing the contract. Anything beyond that isn’t my concern. All the contractual obligations are carried out by the specials,” he pauses, wondering what to call his working environment.

“We can call them special units if that makes it easier for you to talk,” I offer a way out of the situation complicated by secrets.

“Yes, thank you, that’s easier,” Rodéss thanks me, sensing understanding on my part.

“You’re welcome. I've already complicated your life enough just by existing. You have to spend so much time with me, including your free time,” I don’t know why I'm saying this. Maybe I like thinking and hearing that someone is interested in me. “Why are you handling my case yourself instead of giving me over to the other units?”

“The case is special,” he says seriously, like when discussing the contract. “Luter anticipated everything. And he set difficult conditions. Only I have the power to handle this case. Sometimes I doubt my own abilities, but I can’t entrust you to anyone else.”

“Never doubt yourself,” I want to support the person who is trying to protect me, even while doubting his own strength. He consciously takes a risk that endangers himself. “Last night, I didn’t doubt you for a second. If you hadn’t been here, panic would have overwhelmed me. The place would have won. But I knew you were nearby and would protect me.”

“Don’t rely on me that heavily,” Rodéss says uncertainly. “In some cases, even I am powerless to change the course of events.”

“Have you had cases like that? Tell me if you want to. If it won’t interfere with our further communication,” I suggest, not waiting for the vague answers Rodéss usually uses to deflect and close the topics I open.

“I've had a few stories like that,” his voice seems quieter, as if he’s lowering his head, looking at the glass of wine in his hands. “Before working here.”

“In this apartment?” I clarify just in case.

“No,” I hear him chuckle softly. “This place is just one of my responsibilities under an individual contract. I mean the place where we all work. Everyone has their subordinates and those who wish to enter into a contract with us. And before this job, I was different,” he falls silent, not knowing how to explain without revealing secrets, while still trying to make it clear.

“Was your personality different, or your essence?” I try to help with definitions.

“My essence changed, I suppose. My personality changed then, too. I started working after a contract similar to the one your husband signed. My goal was different. The result was the same. I took the contract back then for the sake of another person.”

“For a loved one?” I guess based on how heavily Rodéss speaks of it.

“For a loved one,” he admits after some silence. “When death approaches, especially for those close to you, you realize how powerless you are. You try to do everything you can, and in the end, it’s not enough. And you know that nothing you do will help. Death is inevitable for everyone. Any desperate attempts only deepen the realization of your powerlessness. In the end, I entered into a contract with the people I now work with as equals. I didn’t help my loved one, and I doomed myself to work with them. I lost two lives with one contract.”

“Do you blame yourself for her death?” I ask in a way that makes Rodéss understand from the first words that it’s not his fault. “Death comes for everyone. And there’s no need to go to extremes. I think you've already figured that out.”

“I understand,” he sighs sadly. “I had plenty of time. I've seen countless lives. If you could only see the situations people get into. People go to great lengths when they truly want something. Many fall into the same trap as I did. In the end, they weren’t helped, only had their suffering prolonged. And they remain working here forever. They watch others as if seeing themselves from the outside, they understand everything. The hardest thing is accepting the mistake. And nothing can be fixed. That’s when the peak of regret and the feeling of helplessness sets in.”

“So you didn’t save her, not even at the cost of the contract?” I ask carefully, hoping I don’t touch a nerve with Rodéss.

“They just prolonged her life. Added time, but didn’t relieve her torment. With the contract, I turned my beloved’s life into hell. I wanted to save her, but I ended up making it worse. I separated us forever without the right to ever meet again. It was hard to accept that, too. The work helps me realize how unpredictable and changeable everything is. There’s nothing to hope for,” Rodéss’s words become heavier and sadder.

“Do you still love her?” I don’t know if I'm asking out of curiosity or wanting to know more about him.

“I don’t,” he answers immediately and firmly, as if he’d never had a beloved.

“Why? Did so much time pass that you fell out of love?” I don’t hide my surprise.

“No. Of course, enough time has passed to forget any person. And more than one. They help us get rid of love. No matter how strong it was,” Rodéss calms down, speaking as if it’s a simple matter. “When I realized I couldn’t do anything else, and everything was lost, I immediately asked them to relieve me of the suffering. I just didn’t know they would take not only my feelings for her but the feeling itself. After that, I never felt anything for anyone.”

“And now?” I lead up to the right words. I'm not acting well. I'm opening up a man’s soul just to amuse my vanity. I need to close this unpleasant topic for him.

“You need to get out!” he reminds me loudly. “The water must definitely be cold by now.”

“Yes, you’re right. I didn’t notice,” I stand up. The glass of wine slips from my hand, falls into the water, staining it a deep purple color.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, worried, approaching the door. “Didn’t you break the glass?”

“I didn’t break it. How did you know the glass fell?” I'm surprised by his guess.

“I know that sound,” he laughs to himself. “I dropped it once.”

“That explains it,” I wipe myself with a warm, soft towel that wasn’t there before. I put on fresh clothes. “And what are these clothes?” I ask, stepping out of the bathroom.

“My contractual duties include providing you with good, warm clothing. I'm performing my duties. Don’t you like them?” he asks anxiously, looking at me with nervous eyes.

“Are you kidding? Even I've never owned things like this, even though my family has money,” I stroke the soft, silky fabrics. “It’s so warm.”

“Directly from Italy,” Rodéss says with satisfaction.

“How did you get them? Italy is not close. And there can’t be sellers of such things nearby,” I realize how rare these items are.

“I have a tailor friend. I use professional services as part of the contract,” he boasts about one of the perks of his difficult job.

“How did you know my size?” my first thought is that he took something from my clothes.

“No, don’t think that, I didn’t take your clothes!” he immediately justifies himself, understanding what I might have thought. “Do you remember the old clothes you burned after your bath?”

“I remember. But I burned everything. Only ash remained,” I recall to make sure. “Nothing survived.”

“I have a way. You don’t need to know,” he smiles, asking me not to delve into the details. “From those items, I found out the approximate size, made adjustments, took into account how old the items were and how they might have changed over the years. The tailor made his additions. We ended up with new clothes. I truly hope you like them.”

“I absolutely love them! And the colors are magnificent. I've never seen such rich fabrics,” I examine the new clothes, which catch my eye.

“This tailor uses his own fabrics, based on natural dyes. You saw how the water was tinted by the wine,” he reminds me of the dropped glass.

“Yes, it turned out a beautiful color. And how did he get these colors?” I’d only ever seen colors like this in the sunset at different times.

“As part of the contract, he helps me with his art, but he’s not obliged to reveal his secrets. Come sit down quickly. You must be hungry,” Rodéss invites me with a smile to the table with fresh, fragrant food. “Your neighbors finished eating a long time ago.”

“That’s good,” I'm glad they didn’t wait for me to finish bathing. “Children need to eat well.”

“How do you like the wine?” he asks, pouring half a glass more. “I don’t pour much so that when you spill it, as little as possible is wasted, because I like it.”

“I like it too, so you’re doing the right thing. Better to top it up later,” an excellent idea so as not to spill the second life of the grape unnecessarily.

“Have you had time to decide what you’ll do?” Rodéss reminds me of the difficult decision.

“It’s hard to decide. Under normal circumstances, it’s hard to choose a pursuit you like, and here, I don’t want to start anything because there’s a risk of not finishing anything due to the place’s influence. I've thought of something. Just now,” I announce contentedly, pleased with the sudden idea.

“How have you decided to occupy your free time?” Rodéss listens attentively, with interest.

“I need to clean up here. To thoroughly clean the apartment if I want to live normally. And my neighbors should be comfortable and cozy. They’re raising children,” we both look at the family in the box near the bed.

“Excellent idea,” Rodéss praises. “It’s dirtier here than in the woods. Even the raccoons will soon leave for the natural cleanliness.”

“I don’t know if you’re joking or not, your words sound like the truth. We’ll have breakfast, and I’ll start,” I resolutely break off a piece of fresh bread, take some cheese and sausage.

“Wait,” he goes to the kitchen. He takes a bundle of clothes, returns. He places it near the table. He unwraps it and takes out a pot. He opens it.

“That smells so delicious!” My body craves hot, fragrant food. “Where is this from?”

“I cooked it myself,” he fills a deep bowl with potatoes with broth and meat, a proud smile on his face. He even found some greens for decoration somewhere.

“You’re a miracle!” I can’t remember ever being hungrier. “How I missed food like this!” the sausage is tastier with the potatoes, and the bread seems special. Hunger distorts our perception of reality. You must either remember reality, or satisfy your hunger, or go crazy from starvation. You can’t do everything at once. You have to choose. And I choose to eat my fill, given this lucky chance. “And you cook excellently!”

“No. It just seems that way because you’re hungry,” Rodéss replies modestly. “It’s just regular potatoes. You wouldn’t say that if you’d tasted the culinary masterpieces that a certain friend of mine prepares,” he stumbles, not knowing how to phrase it.

“A client? A work unit? A colleague? A comrade? An acquaintance? A friend?” I list the possible options for him to choose from.

“More of a comrade than a colleague,” he chooses the most suitable word. “Daniel dedicates all his free time to preparing dishes much tastier than this.”

“I don’t care! This is the best thing I've ever tasted,” I say genuinely, without flattery. “Do you often get together to eat?” I'm actually surprised that Rodéss has a comrade.

“Not often. With this kind of work, you rarely get free time, as you might have figured out. When we do get together, it’s more like a session of friendly group therapy—discussing problems, wishes, plans,” Rodéss recalls their shared free time with a smile.

“Do you have many comrades there? Wherever ‘there’ is,” I let him know I won’t pry for details.

“Not many. I have one comrade, and I’m his only friend. We got there at the same time, based on the terms of our contracts. We’ve been communicating ever since. I can call him a friend, though. I just worry a little. I don’t want to jinx it,” he confesses his superstition, sipping his wine.

“You can call him whatever you want, and I’ll know what the reality is. Why aren’t you eating? This is divinely delicious,” at this phrase, Rodéss chokes. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all. You’re free to say whatever you like. Some words are just unfamiliar. Don’t pay any attention to it. And I’m not hungry. I want to drink more than I want to eat. But you eat while it’s hot. Want seconds?” he offers, opening the pot with fragrant steam rising from it.

“Where would I get the strength to refuse?” I hand him my empty plate. “Just a little, though. I don’t want to get fat and become clumsy. I still have cleaning to do.”

“As soon as you gain the weight, you’ll lose it when you decide to. It’s not about appearances,” he places a full plate in front of me. He pours more wine for both of us.

“Are you saying you’ll enjoy my company even if I gain weight?” This is more a provocation than a question.

“When you get fat, I’ll stop coming over and feeding you,” he says, completely serious, looking out the window. “You lose the weight, then I’ll return. We’ll socialize, just like now.”

“Oh, so that’s how you are!” I exclaim in indignation, putting down my fork.

“It’s getting cold,” he reminds me about the potatoes.

“Looks are more important than the inner world?” I continue my thought, returning to my meal.

“It’s hard to see the inner world if it’s carefully hidden beneath a layer of the outer,” Rodéss smiles, understanding he has struck a chord.

“That’s it! I’m not eating anymore!” I confidently place the fork on the table.

“Well, then I’ll eat it all myself later,” he takes the plate and the pot from me with a smile.

“No! Put them back!” I retrieve the plate and the pot, placing them close to me. “I’ll hide from the world beneath a layer of appearance. We’ll see who wants to socialize with me then.”

“Admit it, you let the raccoons in specifically so someone would talk to you,” he can’t resist, laughing at his own joke.

“There’s some truth to that,” I concede one of the arguments that made me let the family in.

“But honestly, you can eat as much as you want. I’ll look at you fat. It’s my duty, after all, to keep your soul warm,” he drinks his wine, looking at me seriously. “It’ll take less firewood to heat up,” he laughs, spilling wine on the floor.

“Oh, is that how it is,” I pout, unable to suppress a smile. Rodéss laughs even harder. I catch his pleasant, sincere laughter. “I’ll save the rest for later,” I say, realizing on my own that I should be more careful with food.

“When you finish eating, I’ll bring you more. Next time, I’ll ask Daniel to cook something so you don’t have to flatter me to protect my feelings,” he gives a disappointed smile.

“No. I won’t eat anything but your food. Better yet, bring the groceries, and I’ll cook something for you,” that’s quite brave on my part. I can’t exactly boast about my culinary skills.

“Fine, I’ll bring the groceries,” Rodéss agrees happily. “What do you need?”

“No. We’ll take it a step further. I’ll find and cook everything myself,” I take matters into my own hands so as not to distract Rodéss from his work any more than necessary.

“It’s all in your hands,” Rodéss fully submits to the terms. “If you want, eat more, but I have to go. Free time ends quickly,” we clink glasses, and he finishes the remaining wine. He leaves, keeping the door ajar.

“See you soon,” I whisper, gazing at the wine in my glass.

“See you soon!” he shouts from the stairs. I smile, hearing his pleasant, cheerful voice.

“What?” I notice the raccoons’ intent stares. All of them are looking at me at once.

“It’s just conversation,” I say, not knowing myself exactly what it is. I collect the leftover food. I give some to the family and take the rest out to the balcony, where it’s cooler. The fires in the bathroom are heating the apartment. “A good cleaning should start with a good rest after breakfast,” I lie down in bed and pull the blanket over me. I just got up, but I’m already drowsy. I don’t see the point in fighting the strong urge. I fall asleep more soundly than I did at night. The daytime is more peaceful.

“Why are you here? Didn’t we say goodbye years ago? I said the final words. There were so many tears, and you’re here, and alive?” I get out of bed and walk toward the door.

“We said goodbye, daughter. I just can’t part with you,” Father hugs me like he did when I was a child, before our communication problems started. “Your farewell speech was beautiful. It touched everyone. Me most of all. Childhood memories. I didn’t think you remembered.”

“The only thing I enjoy remembering. And I don’t want to forget it,” the rest is better left in the past forever. “Come in, sit down,” I lead Father to the sofa. “Would you like some tea?”

“Only if it’s no trouble for you,” Father agrees with a smile. “Can I help?”

“No, thank you,” I take the axe and break the door with a few strong blows. Rodéss healed my hands; they don’t hurt at all now, unlike the first time I used the axe. I pile the wood in the bathroom and set the kettle on its special stand. The water boils quickly. I brew tea for myself and Father. “You haven’t changed at all. You have the exact same amount of gray hair. You haven’t gained or lost weight. You’re just the same.”

“But you’ve changed a lot,” Father looks at me closely, examining what exactly has changed since our last meeting. “You’ve become more grown-up, more serious.”

“Are you judging by the wrinkles?” I realize I’m no longer growing up—I’m getting older.

“Wrinkles? What wrinkles?” Father smiles in confusion. “You have a different look now. Not at all like you did as a child. And you speak more seriously. What happened to turn you from a little, always-smiling girl into a woman who takes care of her father?”

“You know, Dad. A lot has changed since then. I can’t remember everything,” from the stress of the unexpected meeting, I drink the under-brewed tea. “Do you remember Luter, the one you immediately wanted to throw out of the house?”

“How could I forget that ragamuffin?” Father looks at me indignantly, angry at my choice, which displeased my parents. “And what do you want to tell me about him?”

“We got married,” I announce the news with a sad smile.

“Why? Couldn’t you live a normal life? Did you decide to find new problems for yourself and anger your mother and me more?” Father’s anger becomes more evident.

“Don’t worry so much. Your heart is weak,” I see how personally he takes every word. “I have some good news for you, too.”

“What could be good in a place like this, and with that ragamuffin?” Father doesn’t stop being angry.

“The ragamuffin died,” I break the news, unsure what emotions I should feel. Should I be happy for Father, that he’s hearing news pleasant to him? Or should I be upset that Luter is no longer here? I remember our last conversation and don’t know how to feel about everything.

“Finally, some good news since you abandoned your mother and me at home,” he drinks the hot tea happily. “That’s the best thing he could’ve done for you. Is it at least easier to live without him now?”

“I can’t say that,” I pause, wondering how everything turned out.

“He left and made things even worse?” Father’s anger returns. “He dumped you with debts?”

“No. I just stayed alone,” I recall the first time after Luter’s death. “Not entirely alone,” I say with a newly formed smile.

“That’s interesting. Who is making my daughter smile?” Father puts his teacup down. He listens to every word so he doesn’t miss anything important.

“After Luter’s death, an acquaintance of ours came to me. They agreed that Rodéss would help me with everything and protect me from danger.”

“I like this young man if he fulfills his obligations,” Father is pleased.

“Everything is perfect. I can’t fault him. I can’t say he’s a young man, though. Or a man at all,” I voice my genuine doubts for the first time.

“Wait,” he stops me seriously. “Is he older than me? Not a man?”

“Not older. He looks a few years older than me. He’s good-looking. I’m not sure he’s an ordinary man. He has a certain kind of work. And everything he says suggests that,” I wonder if I should be saying these thoughts aloud.

“Who is he then?” Father impatiently demands an answer.

“I can’t say for sure. Let’s not talk about it,” I step away from the serious conversation. “Just drink your tea.”

“The main thing for me is that this Rodéss continues to take care of you and doesn’t abandon you like the ragamuffin Luter. Do you trust this guy?” Father asks seriously.

“Honestly, I trust him completely. I’m just afraid it’s for nothing. You see, Rodéss has a kind of job and circle of friends that makes it better if we don’t get so close. It could make things worse for everyone,” I voice my biggest fear. “And this place is unpredictable. What if it starts using my attachment to him against me? Or against him?”

“I’ll tell you this. Even though you left your mother and me for that ragamuffin Luter, I’m glad to hear you’ve finally met a real man who cares for you instead of piling his problems on you, like virtually all of them do. Close your eyes to his job and this place. Open your eyes in the morning only for him. If Rodéss is really as dependable as you say, you have nothing to fear. He won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Okay, Dad. I’ll try not to make a mistake, as always. I like Rodéss. I think he likes me, too. Would you like more tea?” I shift away from the overly personal topic.

“No, thank you, daughter,” Father finishes his tea and places the cup on the table. “I have to go. You still have cleaning to do.”

“Cleaning! That’s right!” My eyes snap open. I see the apartment waiting to be tidied up. And Father isn’t there. At least we saw each other in a dream. We parted ways years ago, yet we chatted as usual. I even voiced my deepest thoughts to him. I wonder if it was just a dream, or if Father really did come to me. I notice two teacups on the table. I pick them up. “They’re still warm. How is this possible?”

“Anything is possible here,” I hear the unpleasant voice of the arrogant snake from the crest again, appearing in the tea circle from the cup. “Sharing your secrets?”

“None of your business,” I reply sharply, placing the cup on the crest.

“How is it not mine?” the crest appears on the wall by the bed. “The main value of our family is honor. And you want to desecrate it by associating with this Rodéss,” she says with disgust. “Luter is barely gone, and you’ve already found yourself a new suitor.”

“Don’t call him that!” I defend him as the only one I can count on in a tough spot. And every minute right now is tough.

“You defend him,” she whispers with contempt. “Why didn’t you defend Luter like that this morning?”

“Because Luter can’t control himself. We were talking normally with him. We told him the plain truth, and instead of understanding, he started spewing jealousy. Just like you’re spraying your venom at me.”

“How dare you?” the snake fumes, wanting to break free from the crest’s boundaries.

“Stop it,” the lion says sternly. “Luter is gone. Jasmine is a widow, not a wife. Luter is going through a difficult time now. It’s not easy to adjust to death. While he was of sound mind, he talked to me about the possible turn of fate leading to this moment.”

“Luter talked to you about this?” the snake is surprised. “Why don’t I know?”

“It was necessary. Some things can only be entrusted to one,” the lion says calmly, making it clear he doesn’t intend to argue about it now.

“What did you talk about?” my curiosity can’t be calmed until I know everything.

“Luter prepared for the deal for a long time. He thought and worried a lot. In case of a successful signing, he gave me clear instructions, knowing that after his death, the crest was obligated to pass into your hands. I was instructed to tell you that by his death, Luter releases you from the vow you made at the altar. Now you are a free woman and at liberty to associate with whomever you wish. We, as your crest and a reminder of sound mind, are obligated to remind you that Rodéss is not an ordinary man. Be careful with him.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” I thank the lion, ignoring the snake’s indignation and anger. “Why didn’t you tell me this right away? After Luter’s death.”

“I was waiting for Luter to tell you himself. Then I waited for his mind to return to normal. Now I realize there’s no point in waiting. It only makes things harder for you. And one more thing,” the lion says with a heavy voice. “You have the right to renounce us as the accompanying family crest. You can give us up entirely. The family name will be lost either way. So, do what you think is right.”

“What will happen to you if I refuse?” I need to know everything to make the right decision.

“We will disappear and never appear again. Not in your life, nor in anyone else’s. The family name ends with you. There will be no more need for us. If you keep us with you, we will serve as the bearer of the family name. I remind you, you don’t owe us anything. And if you have a child, you will give them the surname you decide upon yourself,” he straightens up, puffing out his chest to steadfastly accept my decision. The snake looks on with distrust, suspecting I want to get rid of her.

“Thank you for your candidness and the choice,” I say with respect and gratitude. “Regarding children and the family name, I don’t know how things will turn out. I seriously doubt there will be an opportunity to continue the line. I’m not going to give you up. I ask you to stay purely as friends, not a crest obligated to serve by its calling. Your family name remains yours. For me, it is not an honor granted at birth. Stay my friends. Only, please, don’t try to pressure my conscience,” I address the snake personally.

“Fine, friend,” the snake replies with a smirk.

“It’s a deal. We’ll be friends,” the lion accepts my decision. “We’re not leaving forever. You need to get many things done before nightfall. While it’s calm, you can do it. Until we meet again,” the crest dissolves on the wall.

“Well, let’s get started,” I say, moving the box with the whole family onto the wide windowsill. “We’ll begin with the floor.” I sweep the parquet with an old broom that’s been around just as long as the apartment itself.

“Need a hand?” a woman stands in the slightly open doorway, her light hair neatly gathered and pinned up. She looks about my age.

“I won’t refuse if you need to,” I meet her with a friendly smile, understanding that any new face could be the face of this place and might not bring anything good.

“We moved in quite recently. I’m bored. My husband went to work and left me at home. I’ve cooked dinner and tidied the apartment, and I don’t know what to do with myself. My husband’s friend said you live next door and you’re a good girl, and we could become friends,” she smiles in a friendly way. It’s strange; I don’t notice any flattery in her eyes or falseness in her words.

“Your husband’s friend?” I repeat, surprised by the phrase.

“Yes, Rodéss and my husband have been friends for a long time. They work together,” she explains, setting a bottle of wine on the table.

“And is your husband’s name Daniel?” I recall the only name Rodéss mentioned.

“That’s right!” My neighbor rejoices. “Rodéss told you, that makes things easier. Your Rodéss is a good man,” she praises seriously in a whisper.

“He isn’t my man,” I deny, though I’m pleased to hear such a phrase directed at me.

“I understand,” she smiles slyly, comprehending my confusion. “Kylie,” she extends her hand with a smile.

“Jasmine,” I reply with a handshake. “You’re hot,” I pull back my hand as if from fire.

“Sorry, I always forget that people react to us a little differently. Don’t be afraid; it won’t burn you. It’ll sting for a minute and then calm down,” she begins cleaning alongside me.

“Are you the same way?” I try to sweep a little quieter so I can hear my new neighbor.

“Yes. We work together,” she moves the furniture with enthusiasm and ease, clearing everything out of the way.

“That’s odd; I thought you don’t live a simple life in places like this,” I don’t hide my surprise. And I’m genuinely curious to understand their way of life.

“Usually, we don’t. We don’t live at all. Daniel, at Rodéss’s insistence, arranged for us to move in next door to you. I hope you don’t mind? Because Rodéss and Daniel made an agreement, but I suspect they didn’t ask you. They always do that,” she shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Nonsense. Good neighbors are a real treasure,” I speak carefully so as not to offend Kylie with a careless word. And also not to give her hope that we’ll become best friends, since no one knows how this interaction will ultimately end.

“Rodéss said a whole family is living in your apartment,” she peers under the bed.

“They temporarily relocated to the windowsill,” I point to the windowsill with the raccoons.

“What cuties,” Kylie smiles. “I won’t pet them so as not to make the parents nervous,” she keeps her distance prudently.

“Yes, it’s best not to hurt the little ones,” I rub my scorched hand.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks with surprise, looking at my hand.

“A little. It’s almost gone. Don’t worry about it. Did Daniel say when he’d be back from work?” I ask to keep the neighborly conversation going.

“Am I boring you already? Do you want to get rid of me quickly?” she asks with a smile.

“No. The thought never crossed my mind,” I answer seriously.

“Don’t worry so much. I understand you’re waiting for Rodéss. It’s just that our men work differently. Their free time rarely overlaps. You shouldn’t even ask me. They never know themselves when they’ll be free. Although, there’s one nice feature. When they’re free, they come straight to us. That makes us special, doesn’t it?” she smiles contentedly, trying to read my hidden reaction.

“I can’t say that yet,” I sidestep the candid conversation.

“I get it. You lost your husband. That’s tough. Especially readjusting to another man. For a while, you feel pangs of conscience. Then it gets easier. Be patient for a bit, and everything will sort itself out. I also had a husband once,” she recalls with a sneer. “I won’t say what I think. You’ll decide for yourself. He persuaded me to sign a contract for the sake of his business and well-being. He promised to love and cherish me forever. But as soon as my signature was on the contract, he immediately left me. He went to another woman who was only with him for the money from the business. He got everything per the contract, and I was left with only the bills to pay from that agreement.”

“That turned out poorly,” I understand how infuriating a situation like that is.

“I don’t regret anything. That contract gave me eternity with a wonderful man. It’s hard to find anyone better than Daniel. I don’t know about Rodéss. I’ve never heard anything bad about him. I think you’re just as lucky.”

“And why are you at home? Is it your time off?” I voice my first guess.

“For now, yes,” she lifts her warm, loose sweater with a smile.

“Are you expecting a baby?” I feel happy for them and surprised. “That’s wonderful!”

“I understand your surprise,” she covers her belly with her sweater. “We can have that too. Why should we be any worse than humans? We work more. We help many people with their personal wishes. We fulfill dreams, if you can call the conditions in the contracts that. The desire to become a mother and have a family never goes away. Now I want it even more strongly. You should see how happy Daniel is that we’re going to have a baby. When he comes home from work, the first thing he does is stroke and kiss my belly, and only then me. I’m a little jealous.”

“He wants a girl?” I guess based on the displays of affection.

“Yes, you guessed correctly,” she smiles, not hiding her joy. “We should have a drink since you’ve uncovered our biggest secret,” she opens the bottle and pours into two glasses.

“Are you allowed to drink while pregnant?” I don’t want to take the glass, as if I’m the one who is pregnant.

“Of course not,” she smiles at my reaction. “There are perks to our job. Daniel works a bit longer than I do and can do more. He learned how to make non-alcoholic wine. It tastes like wine, but there’s no alcohol. Like juice that tastes like wine. Try it,” she hands me the glass.

“It really is wine. Both in appearance and taste. I didn’t know that was possible,” I drink the wine-flavored juice with pleasure.

“With our men, even that’s possible,” she smiles with a mysterious look.

“Don’t say anything more. I want to find out for myself,” I decide it’s better for me to know as little as possible. “When the time is right, Rodéss will tell me everything.”

“Or show you,” she smiles, sipping her wine.

“We got distracted,” I return to the cleaning. “We need to wash the floors.”

“Grab a rag, and I’ll get the water,” Kylie goes to the bathroom, and I take a rag from the box of paints. It feels a little heavy and sad to look at what started everything in this place. “Where are you?” my neighbor urges.

“Will this one work?” I show her what I found.

“It will,” she takes the rag from me and dips it in the water. “Who’s going to wash? You or me?”

“I’ll do it myself. The water is cold,” I take back the rag.

“Cold, right,” she smiles, handing me the authority over the cleaning.

“How did you heat the water?” my hands feel warm and comfortable in the warm water.

“Like I said, there are some perks to our job,” she reminds me of her hot palms.

“Why doesn’t Rodéss do that? It would simplify the task of heating the bathtub. I’d just set it down and only have to wait for the water to warm up,” I joke, dreaming of such a simple method instead of using wood and a fire.

“Not everyone can do that. Only girls in my condition have hot palms,” she gently strokes her stomach. “It’s specifically for convenience in daily life and to protect the baby and the mother from unwanted circumstances and individuals,” she looks around distrustfully.

“Do you know about this place?” I ask, noticing Kylie’s gaze.

“Everyone knows. How do you live here?” she is genuinely surprised, watching me wash the floor. “You should move out.”

“I can’t. I promised,” I recall the words I said to Luter.

“Not every promise needs to be kept,” she speaks like a practical woman.

“It’s the only way I can atone for what I did to him,” My mood darkens at the mere thought of Luter.

“You don’t owe him anything. Everyone enters the agreement voluntarily. Even if everything was for your sake, he should have at least consulted you. Asked if you needed it. There are people who do something, say it’s for you, and then reproach you. They say they do everything for you, and you don’t appreciate it. They should learn to ask what’s needed first, and do exactly that, not what they themselves think you need. Our Daniel and Rodéss act correctly. Nothing excessive. Try not to let him slip away. That’s my personal advice to you. You’ll regret it later if you give him up.”

“And how am I supposed to keep him? I’m a human. And he’s…“ I don’t know what to call him, not knowing what he is.

“None of that matters. If you want to be together, you will be. Daniel and I met unexpectedly at work. And now we’re together for eternity. Why shouldn’t you two do the same?” she offers a somewhat vague option.

“How do I do that?” I clarify to know my options. “Sign a contract and stay working with you?”

“Not necessarily. If I recall correctly, you can work according to your own desire. That even gives you more privileges and opportunities. You should ask Rodéss. He understands everything better,” the advice sounds like a push toward more interaction with Rodéss.

“What if I remain human? Will we have a chance to stay together?” I want to know all the options. Working with them scares me a little.

“There are cases where one remains human. As you can imagine, it’s difficult to live together when one has eternity ahead of them, and the other has a clearly limited time. It’s unpleasant to watch a loved one die,” After these words, Luter in the noose is before my eyes again. My conscience bothers me for just thinking about Rodéss, even though the crest gave me the right to do what I see fit.

“Will you help me clean the windows?” I put the box with the family back in its place near the bed.

“With pleasure,” Kylie opens all the windows and the balcony door. “You start on the left, and I’ll take the right,” she hands me a bucket of clean, warm water and takes a small basin for herself. “The thing I like most about cleaning the apartment is washing the windows. When you look through a clean window, it seems like you’ve truly opened your eyes for the first time. Everything looks different. Even the autumn forest on a cloudy day looks brighter and more beautiful.”

“Yes, you’re right. The forest looks different,” I look through the part of the window I’ve cleaned.

“That’s how the world we see changes. Everything depends on the effort you put in. You just need to know when and what to do,” she speaks like someone with a lot of experience.

“Where is your apartment?” I avoid the urge to ask how old she is.

“We live in the next building. We don’t have an apartment. Daniel repurposed the entire house for us at my request. The baby will need a lot of space. And there’s no need for us to be cramped. You could also ask Rodéss to turn this apartment into a proper home.”

“I don’t know if I need that. I like this apartment. It’s spacious and nice, once it’s tidied up,” I look at how different the apartment looks with the floor cleaned. One small thing changes the entire appearance of the home.

“I agree. Not a bad little apartment. Chosen with taste,” Kylie looks around with an appraising eye.

“Did Rodéss say if he likes it here?” I ask cautiously so as not to betray my anxiety about Rodéss’s opinion.

“I understand your worry,” she smiles, taking a sip of wine. “Believe me, if a man likes you, he’ll live with you wherever you want, if you really like it. I’ll tell you a secret, Rodéss said he enjoys visiting you,” she whispers like a girlfriend. “Just don’t tell anyone. For now, this is his workplace.”

“And for him, am I just a forced contractual obligation?” I don’t like thinking that.

“Contractual obligation? Yes. Forced? No. They often discuss your situation with Daniel. You have to understand something. Luter is in the past. He’s gone. The contract has bound him to those obligations for life. You will never see each other again, unless you want to. That’s within Rodéss’ power. Tell me honestly, do you love Luter?”

“That’s a difficult question. I can’t say right away. Everything’s changed so much. We came here one way, and we live here another. I live,” I correct the words I missed.

“If you can’t say right away, it means you don’t love him. You just can’t admit it yet. Don’t overthink things. You have a great chance to live your whole life with a man worthy of eternity, and you’re still hesitating. Understand this: if Luter were your destiny, Rodéss wouldn’t have appeared.”

“Wait. If a third person appears, does that mean the couple isn’t meant to survive?”

“You understood perfectly what I’m talking about,” she smirks, not letting me deviate from the main idea. “If a new person appears, there are two possibilities. It’s either a test of the strength of your love. The second option: it’s your true destiny.”

“And how do I tell?” I ask for the advice of an experienced woman.

“It’s simple. Pay special attention to what you feel when Luter is near. And compare it to your feelings in Rodéss’ presence. If you end up next to each other, pay attention to how you look at one and the other. I think you already know everything,” Kylie’s look lets me know she knows everything better than I do myself. “Don’t rush, think about it. And even better, learn to listen to yourself.” We hadn’t noticed that our conversation had brought us to the balcony door in the middle of the apartment. “And don’t drag it out. The sooner you let one person out of your heart, the sooner you’ll let the other in. You know what I mean,” she hands me a glass of wine.

“I do,” we drink to the words that sound like a toast.

“And one more piece of advice. Purely for practical reasons. Leave Rodéss in the apartment for the night. It doesn’t matter what you do. That’s your personal business. Right now, your safety is paramount for all of us. The place won’t allow you to live here peacefully until one particular moment arrives.”

“What moment?” that phrase suggests the problems with the place will end. It’s just unclear whether that will be good or bad.

“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry, friend,” she avoids the answer.

“Why is my safety important to everyone?” I clarify the second complicated phrase.

“It’s important to you because your future life, and life in general, is at stake. For Rodéss, it’s a matter of his destiny. Rodéss is Daniel’s friend, so he worries about you both, too. And I need a good friend next door. I have to run; you’ll wipe the dust yourself,” she finishes her wine and hurries to the door.

“Where are you running off to?” I ask after her before she leaves.

“Daniel will be home soon,” she explains on the move. “We can sense things like that. And you’ll learn to,” she smiles goodbye and runs out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“I wonder when Rodéss will be back,” I wipe the dust, sighing. “I still need to go out for groceries.”

“Are you staying here, or are you coming with me?” I ask the parents in the box.

“It is better if they stay here,” the lion on the coat of arms, which has appeared on the box, says.

“Is something bad waiting for me there?” I make it clear that I’m going regardless, since I promised. I want to be ready for potential difficulties.

“We can’t be sure of anything. We periodically get a bad feeling,” the lion explains anxiously. “It would be better if you didn’t go alone.”

“Sorry, I have to go,” I say, putting on my jacket with the money. I leave, keeping the door open.

“We are with you,” a bloody family coat of arms appears on my palm, formed from veins and capillaries under the skin.

“It’s good that it doesn’t hurt,” I am glad for at least one thing that isn’t painful.

“It’s enough that everyone else causes you pain,” the snake whispers.

“Are you starting to worry about me?” I ask, smiling as I look at her.

“Now we aren’t obliged to restrict your freedom of action with commitments. You can abandon us at any moment. So why pester you with conditions,” she reasons aloud, showing that the overseers are becoming friends.

“It’s better to go around,” the lion advises.

“Why?” We walk past Luter’s grave. The earth has settled a little, and the golden leaves have rotted, becoming a somber covering. “Do you think it’s hard for me to see this?”

“We think it’s hard for him to see you,” the snake explains.

“Sorry, I won’t make a wide circle around him to spare his delicate feelings. Nothing personal,” I say, not wanting to argue with the coat of arms over this.

“Should have buried him further away,” the snake says, reproaching me for burying him too close and forcing Luter to see me walk past without stopping.

“Further?” I repeat with a smirk. “And which of you would have helped me drag him even further? Do you know how much a dead person weighs? The living Luter weighed more than me. And a dead body becomes twice as heavy, along with the panic, fear, despair, and anger that piled up at that moment. The only ones nearby were the raccoons. And I’m glad they were there and told me where to get a shovel. They offer more advice than words do, when everything is already done. I suggest we close this unpleasant topic, which leads to an inevitable scandal, and walk on peacefully. Anyone who disagrees can stay with Luter.”

“I’ll do just that,” the snake slides off the lion’s neck, coils up like a spring, and jumps out of the coat of arms with a splash of my blood from my palm. She freezes in a bloody ring on the stone that has become his tombstone.

“Why leave my blood on the grave?” the snake evokes a burst of anger in me as a farewell. I want to smash this stone in half.

“Let’s go,” the lion calmly leads me away. “There’s no need to waste time on unpleasantness. Everyone is free to choose. Not just you and me. The snake never, for many years, liked living on the coat of arms.”

“Then why did it stay on it? Who could force the snake to stay in one place for hundreds of years?” I ask the lion remaining on my palm.

“When the family decides who will be depicted on the coat of arms, they don’t ask those who are depicted. Imagine the family’s surprise if the coat of arms carved in stone suddenly became empty,” the lion bares his fangs as if smirking.

“Why did you stay with me? I thought you disliked me even more than the snake did,” I ask, glancing at the bleeding wound on my hand.

“I myself was quite fed up with the snake over the years,” the lion admits, licking the spot where the snake left. The blood gradually stops.

“Thank you,” I say, grateful for the healing.

“That’s why I stayed. Rodéss won’t always be able to be near. Someone else must look after you. Luter wouldn’t have abandoned you if he were in my place. Don’t forget that I am the male essence of the family.”

“He did abandon me, though,” the anger toward my husband speaks in me again. “I know that things may not be as they seem to me. From your words, it seems that the female essence of the family is always a betrayer? And I abandoned Luter, just as the snake abandoned you?”

“There’s no need to make comparisons and link different things. You’ll only invent lies for nothing, believe them, and suffer from your own inventions,” the lion says wisely. “Better hurry. It gets dark faster in the fall. And on a gloomy day, night descends suddenly, plunging the world into darkness. It won’t be easy to return in the dark. We haven’t left a single marker.”

“Doesn’t Kylie light any fires? Have you noticed?” I approach indirectly to find out the coat of arms’ opinion of my new neighbor.

“Kylie herself is no simpler than fire. A flame burns in her. If she loses control, everything around will burn. She won’t spare you, either. Be careful. You can’t orient yourself by her. You might get lost forever,” my companion on my hand warns.

“Are you suggesting she might lure me into the boundaries created by the contract?” Kylie’s words were leading to something similar.

“In the name of the Rodéss you like, this woman was persuading you to join them. Isn’t that strange, considering the circumstances and who they are?” the lion sows more and more doubts in me. Not for nothing. I myself am wondering more and more whether I should trust.

“We have to wait for Rodéss. Wrong conclusions could make the situation worse,” we must be careful in everything now.

“You also need to listen carefully to Rodéss, separating his personal words and attitude from the terms of the contract. Do you trust him?” the lion repeats the question he asked when my guardian first appeared.

“I was more doubtful then. A minute ago, I fully trusted him. Now I’m starting to doubt again, thanks to your cautious speeches,” I don’t know whether to be angry at the lion for sowing doubts or grateful for not letting my vigilance sleep. “You know more than I do. Should I trust him?”

“I know not much more than you do. I was only present when the contract was signed between them. Rodéss pulled off the deal cleanly and professionally. I have no complaints about him in that regard. The contract terms are being fulfilled. Your closeness is what is alarming,” my second guardian shares his concerns. “I fear you might come to regret close association with him.”

“I promise I’ll be careful. Just don’t forget to remind me to be careful,” I ask as a close friend. If the snake had told me this, a surge of anger would have been unavoidable. The lion says everything calmly, thoughtfully, and sensibly.

“We’ve arrived,” we reach the same small village.

“I don’t want to go to the mercenary man again,” I walk past the fortress wall made of large boulders.

“It’s better not to go,” the lion supports me. “It seems he is somehow connected to what is happening.”

“I don’t know. I think he doesn’t talk to anyone at all. Even if they offer him some kind of contract, this man will suspect unfavorable conditions and won’t allow anyone to profit at his expense. Although, I know little,” I admit that all my words are just guesses.

“You’re thinking correctly,” my ally agrees with me on the road between the low houses, built of stones cemented with clay and straw.

“Choose where we should go in?” I look at the identical small houses. They look as if they were copied and set up along the road. Even their leans are identical. The doors and windows are painted the same colors. Only the first house, belonging to the greedy owner, stands out. And the only difference between them is the fence. Everyone else has rotten boards stuck in the ground, pointing in different directions, but the first house has familiar boulders stacked one upon the other.

“The choice is easy; we can go into any of them,” the lion also doesn’t see much difference.

“Are the people here just as identical?” I choose between two houses standing wall-to-wall.

“We won’t know until we go inside,” the lion looks at both houses and seems perplexed.

“Is something bothering you?” I ask, noticing the uncertainty in his strained gaze.

“Something isn’t right,” he voices his concern. “The houses are too similar. Especially these two. It’s as if one was held up to a mirror, and the second one appeared as its reflection.”

“We have to go somewhere. I promised Rodéss I would get groceries myself and prepare dinner. I must keep my word. Isn’t that what’s most important for the family name?” I remind it of the goal of our visit to the village, appealing to the lion’s pride.

“Let’s go into the right one. If the second is a copy, this one must be the original,” he makes the decision more firmly than I could have decided to take a step into a dubious dwelling.

“Owners,” I knock on the right house, hoping that nothing bad will happen.

“Guests?” a surprised female voice is heard behind the door.

“Open it,” a harsh male voice sends the woman to the door.

“Did you want something?” a short woman asks through the slightly ajar door.

“We would like to,” I accidentally say, remembering the lion out of habit. She looks around, looking for whom I am referring to. “I’d like to buy some groceries to make dinner.”

“What are you going to cook?” she asks to the point.

“You know, I didn’t have time to think of anything on the way,” I realize I don’t even know what groceries I need.

“Come with me, dear. We’ll help you with dinner now,” she leads me to the shed, where vegetables, fruits, and winter preserves are stored. Bundles of onions and garlic, and ropes with strung mushrooms hang from the ceiling. “Today, you’ll cook our signature dish for your man. Here you go,” she gives me a bundle of onions, three zucchini, a small bag of potatoes, and a small bag of salt. She leaves, returns with a basket of fresh eggs. She opens a door in the back wall of the shed, and descends into the cellar. “We jarred this for a special occasion,” she hands me a can of stewed pork. “And the oil will come in handy,” she pours sunflower oil from a large jug into a small one. “I’ll write down the recipe now, you’ll have to wait.”

“How will I carry all this? It doesn’t even fit in my hands,” some of the groceries are already on the ground.

“Don’t worry about that. Wait here,” she leaves for the house.

“What are you doing in there for so long?” her husband complains. “Are you giving away our winter supplies?”

“I only gave her a little,” she replies, defending me. “We’ll still have plenty left, and she has nothing. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come. Move aside! Rolan, come with me!” she steps out of the house with a boy about twelve years old. “Help the girl carry everything,” she hands me a paper with a recipe. The boy is also holding a small pot of sour cream.

“This is too much,” I realize the woman is giving me far more food than I need. “I don’t even have this much money,” I hand over all the cash I have.

“Why are you giving me this money?” the woman is annoyed. “In your situation, this isn’t what you should be worrying about.”

“You know about my situation?” I am surprised by the woman’s unexpected remark.

“Everyone knows,” she replies in a whisper, glancing at the house. “Take everything. Rolan will help you carry it. Just hurry so the boy is back before dark.”

“Thank you so much,” I leave the money on a shelf, near a jug of oil.

“Go quickly. The others aren’t as understanding as I am,” she urges, closing the shed. “Try to come here less often. And when you run out of food, come by the back of the house. You’ll see broken clay pots there. Leave the bags under them. Go straight into the forest and wait for me. Understand everything?”

“Yes, I understand. Thank you very much,” I express my gratitude even more, realizing that the woman is taking a risk by talking to me.

“Go. Rolan, be back before dark!” she seriously instructs the boy.

“Okay, Mom. It’s not far from here,” he confidently reminds her that he knows where we need to go.

“Does everyone in your village know about me?” I ask the boy on the way to the forest.

“Everyone here knows everything. And especially about you,” he looks at me with sympathy.

“And what is it that everyone knows?” I want to find out how bad their opinion of me is.

“Everyone thinks you’re connected to evil spirits. Some say you are an evil spirit. You killed your husband. You talk to yourself day and night. You’re crazy, or you communicate with invisible dark entities. Everyone is afraid you’ll bring trouble upon us,” he says with an uncertain tone.

“And what do you think?” I try to catch the boy’s eye.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to get involved in the arguments between my parents. My dad is against you, but my mom wants to help you. I just don’t want my mom to be hurt,” he looks worried, as if everything depends on me.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m far from being an evil spirit. And I talk to the family of raccoons that live with me. In the forest, I talk to the trees,” I try to offer a plausible explanation.

“You’re one of those. A pagan?” he looks at me with a slight smirk.

“I just like talking to nature,” I try not to sound insane.

“And how did your husband die?” he asks with both interest and fear in his voice.

“He hanged himself,” I tell him the truth. Despite his young age, he looks like a mature, bright person.

“He hanged himself?” he still doubts my innocence.

“He put his own head in the noose. It was a complete shock to me. Everything was going well. But not for long,” I recall my initial feelings.

“Is it true what they say, that evil spirits live in that house? And that the place is strange?” Rolan’s interest in his eyes grows with every question.

“I don’t know for sure. So far, I only have strange dreams and unpleasant visions. Otherwise, it’s a normal house. Tell me instead, why are all the houses so similar to each other?” I turn the interrogation back on him so I don’t accidentally say more than I should.

“This isn’t a simple village. Some say it was created by sorcerers, others call them mages or witches. Your house isn’t simple either,” Rolan says calmly.

“So all the houses here are unusual? Why, then, is my house getting such intense attention?” the unfairness causes outrage in me.

“Strange things happen in the other houses sometimes. But no one else’s husband hanged himself,” Rolan separates me from the other residents of this complex area. I can still sense a little hostility towards me.

“You don’t like outsiders?” I ask directly to understand the boy’s attitude.

“You always come here, disturb the peace of our area. You lose everything. Then you run away in terror. New people come to your place. Everything starts over again. The locals are stronger than you are. If something happens, we suffer in silence. Eventually, everything is forgotten, the place calms down. And then you appear again, wanting to find solitude far away from the world. When will you realize that we are much better off without you? You only think about yourselves!” It’s not difficult to see Rolan’s mood beneath the direct reproaches.

“It’s getting dark. You should go home. I can walk the rest of the way myself,” I dismiss the boy, freeing him from my unpleasant company.

“As you wish,” he sets down everything he was carrying. He leaves without saying goodbye and heads back.

“Thanks for the help,” I say in return, just to annoy him for his biased attitude. They can’t understand what it means to strive to get away from the city. They live their whole lives in one lost place and ca

“Let me help you,” Rodéss meets me near the house. “Why did you get so much stuff?”

“I ran into a kind woman. The whole village hates me, but she reached out to me. She gave me more than I needed and took less money than it all costs.”

“That’s strange. I’ve never noticed kindness in the locals,” Rodéss is surprised.

“I’m surprised too. The young man is filled with the public opinion. He’s hostile toward newcomers. They think I killed Luter,” unable to contain my outrage, I tell Rodéss something I shouldn’t. I imagine how unpleasant it must be for him to hear about my dead husband.

“Try to ignore it. We know what really happened. And they suspect that you’re not to blame for it. That’s why they haven’t come for you with pitchforks and axes yet,” he turns the whole thing into a joke so I don’t get upset.

“I have an axe, too,” I seriously remind Rodéss of his gift. Now I’m ready to use it if anyone decides to make war on me.

“Just try not to attract any extra attention, okay? I don’t want to move to another place. You like it here, despite the strange things,” he tries protectively to preserve my chance to stay where I like it.

“Rolan let slip that strange things happen to them too,” I remember the words that intrigued me. “What’s going on with them?”

“The whole village is one big strangeness. The houses only absorbed a small part of the village’s influence. The settlement was founded by sorcerers, shamans, witches, and charlatans who were exiled from the cities and didn’t have any special abilities. Those who had outstanding powers could have died in the city. They built houses. To speed up construction, they used various spells. Single and mass spells. The liars were exposed by their lack of skill. No one spoke to them. They were killed and buried in the vicinity. They didn’t make gravestones so the earth would erase any mention of them. Did you see the mirror houses? The real sorcerers made them with serious spells.”

“I saw them. I went into one of them; that kind woman who shared her groceries lives there,” I point to the goods we are carrying home together.

“You went in there?” Rodéss asks in horror, stopping abruptly. “How do you feel? Are you okay? How did you get out of there?” he examines me as if I’d been in a fire. He feels my arms, looking intently into my eyes.

“I didn’t go inside,” I reassure the worried Rodéss. The woman came out to me.

“That’s good,” he exhales, calming down. “Under no circumstances should you enter houses like that!” the intimidation in his voice is startling. I’m not afraid because I know it’s a manifestation of his concern.

“I won’t,” I say, looking into the wide-open eyes of my guardian.

“Promise me,” he asks seriously.

“I promise. I won’t ever even think about entering a mirror house. If you tell me what the danger is,” I add, wanting to know what I’m being protected from.

“The spell lets everyone in. It only permits the relatives of the sorcerer who built the house to leave. The entire settlement consists of the descendants of those sorcerers. No outsider has ever managed to leave a local resident’s house,” he recounts, still affected by my mention of the house visit.

“If that’s the case, why were Luter and I able to enter and leave the first house, the one between the forest and the village, without issue? Do you know which house I’m talking about?” I recall that Rodéss wasn’t there then, although it’s starting to feel like he has always been, and always will be, by my side.

“I know. A low wall of large stones has been built around that house. Its owner wants the house to look like an impregnable fortress, though that’s far from the truth,” he recalls the isolated house’s owner with a smirk. “You were able to leave because he is the descendant of the only charlatan who survived. There’s not a drop of magic in his house.”

“Why did the locals let him live?” I’m surprised by this twist, given the village residents’ attitude.

“A harmless, greedy little man,” Rodéss doesn’t hide his disdain for him. “Essentially, nobody cares about this charlatan’s descendant. He presents no value, and no harm. The shameful lineage will end with him. Everyone is quietly waiting, taking no action. When we led everyone here, his father helped one of the sorcerers reach the village. That sorcerer was respected. Everyone revered him, even from a distance. Rumors of him spread everywhere, beyond the country’s borders. Young people wanted to study under him. Dikaro didn’t take anyone as an apprentice. He was coming to the village to live out his remaining years.”

“Were you among those who gathered the sorcerers here?” I’m surprised by Rodéss’s involvement. I thought he only dealt with the Contracts.

“I was sent here along with all the newcomers. That’s when Daniel and I also scoped out places nearby for ourselves. We are living there now, in our houses,” he looks proudly at the house where I’m currently staying.

“You are living here?” I ask again before he changes the subject.

“I’ll tell you later, all right?” he smiles evasively.

“Fine,” I try to make a mental note to find out more later.

“Daniel and I had just started working with the Contracts back then. We announced a general gathering. A nightmare started for the people. Mass hysteria. I must admit, it wasn’t for nothing. Persecution began against everyone with abilities beyond human. Stupid people. Everyone has such abilities; only some bother to develop them. And so, it turns out that those who achieved nothing persecuted those who reached heights in their craft. And we helped all the refugees find sanctuary. Anyone weak of spirit couldn’t make it here. Those who did the chasing gave up before those who arrived.”

“So, what about our houses?” I ask, climbing the stairs.

“You’re finally back!” Kylie exclaims happily, meeting us in my apartment.

“Daniel,” Rodéss’s friend introduces himself.

“Jasmine,” I say, giving Rodéss a questioning look.

“I didn’t know we’d have company,” my protector defends himself.

“Our company,” Kylie smirks, helping to take the groceries to the kitchen.

“Yes, what does ‘our’ mean?” I focus on that phrase.

“You haven’t told her anything?” Daniel asks in a low voice.

“Told me what?” I attack Rodéss with a question.

“You see,” he leads me onto the balcony. From here, I can see the red sun setting behind the gray clouds. “Daniel and I noticed these places when we were helping to create that village. We decided then that we would live here. In time, residential houses were built here. Ordinary people from the cities moved in. They didn’t live here long, leaving as soon as their patience ran out.”

“What was it that drove them out of here? What required so much patience?” I don’t let go of Rodéss’s gaze.

“The magical energy from the village permeated all the surrounding areas. The house, standing on the saturated ground, absorbed some of it too. Strange things started happening. Like with you. Weak-willed people immediately abandoned the place, which was dangerous for life and sanity. Daniel and I seized the moment and moved into these two houses. Daniel took the house next door, and I live in this one.”

“So, I moved into your house?” For the first time, I feel awkward. The sense of superiority I felt as the apartment’s hostess gradually vanishes.

“I absolutely don’t mind,” Rodéss tries to lessen my distress.

“I brazenly moved into your house,” I repeat the heavy words that prick my conscience.

“That’s a good thing,” Rodéss wants to show that he’s happy about my arrival. Somehow, I don’t entirely believe it. “Look how my apartment has been transformed thanks to you,” he points to the clean, well-kept apartment through the washed windows.

“Thanks to us!” Kylie says from the kitchen. “We cleaned it together.”

“Yes, Kylie helped me. I couldn’t have managed by myself,” every word is now filled with the modesty of a guest.

“You would have managed!” Kylie smiles, peering onto the balcony. “I want a little praise too. It was unlivable here. How many times did I tell him to clean up, all in vain.”

“You both worked hard. I’m grateful to you,” Rodéss looks at me kindly.

“I’m sorry for invading your apartment without permission,” I apologize, realizing how this looks from an outside perspective.

“Stop apologizing. I think you understand one simple thing. No one would have let you in here without my consent,” Rodéss calms me strictly.

“Why did you let us in?” I’m surprised by such good nature. Especially considering Rodéss allowing Luter and me to live here together.

“I don’t have a family. I decided not to interfere with your domestic happiness. I thought things would work out for you both. I just didn’t account for Luter’s actions. The Contract was finalized before you came here. And I didn’t know you would arrive. Everything happened absolutely by chance. Just don’t think this was all planned,” a serious Rodéss is afraid I’ll suspect something bad. But I don’t even know what to think. It’s not hard to believe in chance, given how things happen in my life.

“It’s fine,” I reply completely calmly. “Let’s get back to our guests. Your guests,” I correct the mistake I consciously made.

“You said it right the first time. Our guests,” Rodéss says with a smile. “You live in my house. I hope I can live here too?” he asks uncertainly, afraid of scaring me off.

“This is your house. You don’t have to ask my permission. I should be asking yours. If you need me to, I’ll leave tomorrow,” my conscience is driving me to extremes.

“No,” Rodéss’s seriousness returns.

“To our new home!” Kylie hands us glasses of wine; we clink glasses and drink. “Don’t worry, mine is the only non-alcoholic one,” she reassures everyone, laughing.

“It’s good,” I praise, internally wrestling with deep doubts. Everything looks completely different now. This explains why Rodéss appeared here, aside from the Contract. He simply came home. He is taking care of me. And I’m an uninvited guest. It’s strange that he didn’t kick me out right away.

“Stop thinking about all that nonsense already!” Kylie dispels my heavy thoughts with her mere presence.

“Darling, you heated up my wine again,” Daniel gently chides his wife with a smile.

“I’m sorry, dear. I keep forgetting about the small changes,” Kylie apologizes, kissing her husband on the cheek while he prepares dinner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t cook dinner as I promised,” I apologize to Rodéss.

“It’s nothing. Daniel is more than happy to do it. And then the two of us will have a dinner just for ourselves. No witnesses,” Rodéss says seriously, looking at Kylie and Daniel.

“You’ll have plenty of time to be together!” Kylie laughs, keeping the apartment filled with a pleasant, bright atmosphere. The candles even seem to burn brighter when she’s near. Or maybe it’s because of Rodéss. Although, the three of them together make my life brighter, despite the fact that the village considers them a dark force. Who are they to talk? Whoever they are, I'm happy with them. And I’d use an axe to defend them, without a second thought.

“I must say, it’s a good recipe,” Daniel praises with a smile.

“Are you cooking from a recipe?” I am surprised at the chef’s choice. “Rodéss told me that you only prepare exceptional dishes. This is a recipe from a nearby village.”

“I know,” the cook boasts proudly. “Rodéss and I came up with it when the village was being built. It was all we managed to grow quickly before the new settlers arrived. Everyone in the village used to cook it. The past generation has passed away. And the recipe is gradually fading into the past,” Daniel shares his sadness, tasting the dish.

“How much longer? We’re starving,” Kylie peers into the kitchen, rubbing her stomach.

“You’re not the only ones who are starving,” Rodéss reminds her, next to me on the bed.

“Just a little longer! Be patient, my ladies gentlemen. Great works of art take time. Better yet, bring me more candles!” the cook requests, rattling the pots.

“How does Daniel cook?” I ask Kylie, not noticing any fire in the kitchen.

“We all have our secrets. Daniel knew what he would be cooking and brought his complicated frying pans. The metal holds heat from the earth’s depths. I don’t know if you should know this,” she whispers, hinting that what she’s shared must remain a secret.

“Do the pans heat up by themselves? In these conditions, only cookware like that could save us,” the coolness in the apartment won’t let me forget my dream of warmth.

“Rodéss! How did you let us get chilly?” Kylie protests angrily.

“I apologize,” he hurries to make amends. “It’s a habit to conceal the apartment’s capabilities,” he runs his hand along the wall. Red-hot rivers flow across the smooth canvas, creating a warming mural depicting local scenic beauty in its full bloom.

“Was it that beautiful here before?” I ask, having known nothing but autumn.

“It can also be beautiful in the summer. It used to be much better,” Kylie says with longing and nostalgia. “I was lucky to see such beauty,” she smiles, looking at the glowing mural that covers the entire wall.

“If it gets too hot, you tell me,” Rodéss says caringly.

“Good, I definitely will. As soon as I warm up,” I can’t quite bring myself to take off the warm sweater yet.

“Just a second,” Rodéss puts his palms together, moves them apart, and raises them. The red-hot veins flare up with bright heat. Warmth radiates from the wall.

“That’s better,” Kylie praises, pulling off her sweater, remaining in her T-shirt. “And more familiar,” she adds contentedly, warming herself near the mural.

“I'm sorry I didn’t do this sooner,” Rodéss apologizes. “Actually, I shouldn’t even be showing you this now. Kylie said you’re thinking about working with us.”

“Why did you say that?” I look at my neighbor sternly, surprising myself.

“Sorry, friend. I liked the idea so much I couldn’t contain my excitement,” Kylie doesn’t look overly regretful about what she said. “So, what have you decided?”

“I don’t know yet,” my doubts are stronger than my desire for eternal friendship with all of them. “I need more information to properly understand everything and imagine what awaits me.”

“I'm sorry, Jasmine, but we can’t do that. It’s a big risk,” Rodéss explains. “If we tell you everything and you refuse, we’ll be punished for disclosure. You’ll also face consequences. They’ll consider it deception aimed at uncovering secrets.”

“So, my decision is a total risk? I have to decide my fate without knowing anything?” I summarize what I've heard.

“That’s how it is, it seems,” Rodéss confirms.

“It’s not about the job itself, but your desire to be with Rodéss and to be friends with us,” Kylie suggests, pointing out the main subtlety.

“You can talk about business later!” Daniel serves the special local dish on the table. Rodéss moderates the heat on the wall, noticing everyone has already taken off their warm clothes. “How do you like it?” the chef waits for everyone to taste it.

“Wonderful, darling,” Kylie compliments.

“Just like old times,” Rodéss says with nostalgia.

“You’re lucky to have eaten this so many times,” I don’t know what contributed more to the success—the recipe itself or Daniel’s efforts. “No wonder Rodéss praises you,” I thoroughly enjoy the special flavor of the dinner. “I wish I had been the one to prepare this dinner,” I say, concealing an apology to Rodéss.

“This dinner wouldn’t have happened without you! To Jasmine!” Daniel raises a glass of wine, giving a toast in my honor.

“To Jasmine!” Kylie and Rodéss support the toast.

“Thank you,” I humbly thank the pleasant company.

“Who gave you these ingredients?” Daniel asks.

“She didn’t tell me her name. I think she’s the only good woman in the village,” I try to recall if I heard what she was called. “I can’t remember.”

“Can you tell us anything about her?” Kylie clarifies.

“She lives on the right side, coming out of the forest. In a mirrored house. Her son’s name is Rolan. Do you know her?” I want them to know her. It’s important to know the names of good people.

“Adeya is the daughter of a good friend of ours,” Rodéss recalls. “Her mother, Vilena, was one of the strongest sorceresses in the world. She didn’t pass all her knowledge on to her daughter, so as not to turn her life into a copy of her own.”

“Vilena was such a powerful witch?” I feel a certain awe before the name.

“Not a witch,” Daniel corrects with respect. “A White Sorceress. She could heal any disease. But people called her a witch, wanted to burn her at the stake, or something worse. We managed to get her out of the city, a whole day ahead of everyone else.”

“Were you friends with her?” I notice how warmly everyone speaks of her.

“Vilena was a dear friend of ours,” Kylie remembers, smiling.

“What happened to her? Why did you stop being friends?” I know I shouldn’t have asked.

“Even though she was the strongest sorceress, she chose not to argue with nature and add years to her life. Like all ordinary people, she died of old age,” Rodéss recounts sadly.

“And you haven’t seen her since?” everyone can tell that I'm beginning to guess who they are.

“No,” Kylie answers with a smile. “Vilena’s soul didn’t go to us.”

“And that’s a good thing,” Daniel says, clearly relieved.

“To Vilena!” Rodéss raises his glass.

“To Vilena,” I support the toast along with Daniel and Kylie.

“It’s a shame we can’t visit dear souls,” Rodéss regrets.

“Why can’t you?” I realize I'm asking more than I'm allowed to. I'm not forcing them to answer all my questions, though.

“It’s just the rule,” Rodéss answers evasively. “They don’t visit us, and we don’t visit them. If that rule is broken, the others will start to break down.”

“Enough talk about the past and past friendships for today,” Kylie closes the topic that is affecting everyone. “We need to remember those who are currently alive. Let’s go home, Daniel. Our friends need some private time. If the place allows them to enjoy the evening,” she says, leading her husband home.

“Thank you for the evening and the dinner,” I thank the friendly couple.

“Thank you,” Kylie replies with a smile. “Have a pleasant evening,” she leaves, her sly smile lingering.

“What if this is our mistake?” I whisper, clinging to Rodéss.

“Then it’s the best mistake of our lives. Believe me, everything will be fine with us,” he looks into my eyes, revealing the depth of his soul. A tender kiss instills confidence in the future. With him, I forget the past, whatever it may have been. “There is no past. There is only the present, you and me. We are together. Let’s be happy about this and not think about anything else.”

“I agree,” I answer as if Rodéss is proposing to me again to spend an eternity with him. “What is that?” I listen to the sounds outside.

“It sounds like the cries of crows,” Rodéss listens too, heading toward the balcony. “Jasmine,” he says seriously, without turning to me. “You’d better not see this. Don’t look outside.”

“Why? What’s happening out there?” Despite Rodéss’ words, I’m drawn to look. Which should I trust, my eternal husband’s words or my desire?

“Stay in the house,” Rodéss jumps from the balcony.

“Rodéss!” Without thinking, I rush out onto the balcony to see if he is alright. I see more than just him. Luter emerges from the night forest, escorted by black crows with burning yellow eyes that illuminate the grim place. “You said you’d forbid Luter’s spirit from appearing here!” I scream, succumbing to panic.

“That’s not a spirit. That’s Luter himself,” Rodéss replies, alarmed.

“What does that mean?” I peer at the dark silhouette walking toward the house.

“There’s no place for you here, Luter,” Rodéss stops my ex-husband at the edge of the forest. “Go back where you came from.”

“I wasn’t revived for this,” Luter says with anger and contempt. “I came for my wife. You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Why are you alive?” I cry in terror from the balcony.

“The place doesn’t hate everyone,” Luter answers in a fractured voice, turning his face, rotten from under the ground, toward me.

“The local magic permeated the earth,” Rodéss reminds us. “This shouldn’t have happened. The energy of sorcerers and witches is scattered across the land. To do this, you’d need a clump of enormous power that wouldn’t just gather in one spot,” he looks at the resurrected Luter with confusion.

“Thanks to the ancestors who gifted me the family crest,” Luter shows the piece of the gravestone on which the snake, made from my blood and coiled into the ring, remains. “And thank you, little wife, for the blood. Without it, nothing would've worked.”

“Why did you do it?” Rodéss asks, looking up at me from below.

“The snake broke free from my hand with some of my blood,” I try to explain. That’s a difficult thing to say and be believed.

“None of that matters,” Luter says confidently. “I need my wife. If you don’t want us to live here, I’ll take her with me somewhere else,” he continues walking toward the house.

“No,” Rodéss stops Luter firmly. “Jasmin is my wife now,” he shows the ring on his finger. The second ring gleams on my hand.

“And you don’t like my ring anymore?” Luter raises his eyes to me.

“I have no use for it,” I take out the wedding ring Luter gave me from my pocket. “Take it,” I throw the ring at him.

“That was a mistake,” Luter catches the ring with his living hand, revealing lifeless veins. He squeezes his palm and presses it against the snake coiled on the stone. The gold is absorbed, sealing my blood. “Live. You were created for this,” the golden snake is released from the stone, increasing in size.

“Free me,” the heraldic lion on my palm says, straining to fight.

“How do I do that? There’s no gold left, except for the wedding ring Rodéss gave me. I can’t take it off. It’s forever.”

“Pierce your palm and point it at Rodéss,” the lion confidently tells me what to do.

“With what?” In a panic, I run into the apartment, searching for sharp objects. I find the very knife I used to cut the rope to take Luter down. I run out onto the balcony. “Rodéss!” I cut my palm, immediately pointing it at Rodéss. The bloody lion bursts from my hand. Rodéss directs a stream of superheated energy at him, clothing the heraldic lion’s body in glowing hot metal from the depths of the earth.

“It was foolish of you to interfere in this,” the lion grows larger than the snake. With a single bite, he throws the snake aside, clearing the space between Rodéss and Luter.

“You should be fulfilling the terms of the agreement right now, not being here,” Rodéss tries to calmly persuade Luter to return to his service.

“You’re the one who shouldn’t be here!” Luter is definitely not in a mood to leave. “I should be with my wife!”

“That’s in the past, just like you!” Rodéss’ patience runs out. He grabs Luter by the neck and throws him into a tree.

“And you said you know everything,” Luter smirks. “If the local magic revives, the pain stays in the earth,” the snake, controlled by Luter, lunges at the lion, sinking her fangs into the mane.

“Destroy him, Rodéss!” I scream from the balcony, supporting my eternal husband.

“The local magic is beyond my power!” Rodéss replies, merely restraining Luter. The lion tears the snake off himself, catching her with his claw, and pins her to the ground.

“You don’t have much authority here,” Luter says haughtily. The snake slips out from under the heavy lion’s paw, coils like a spring, and straightens, leaving a golden trail on the chest of the lion, which flips onto his back from the impact.

“The source of my power is far greater than the local magic deposits,” Rodéss punches Luter in the face. The reanimated corpse flies back, just like the snake the lion sweeps away with his paw as she leaps at him. Rodéss and the lion stand firmly on their feet, anticipating a strike.

“You forgot something,” Luter looks at Rodéss shrewdly. The snake prepares to attack.

“What are you talking about?” my defenders make no new attempts, expecting a surprise move.

“My patrons haven’t forgotten that you turned the key to their prison, leaving them to die in the wilderness,” Luter reminds him of Rodéss’ involvement in the relocation of the sorcerers, throwing stones from the grave into my eternal husband’s face. The snake spits golden venom into the lion’s eyes.

“You only have one patron now!” Rodéss bats away the hail of stones, flaring his cloak. “You obey only the one you swore to serve, signing the terms of the agreement!” he pulls out a sword with a glowing vein beneath his cloak. He charges at Luter. The lion jumps over the golden fountain of venom, extending his claws.

“My new patrons know how to get around your master,” Luter revels, raising his palms, covered in graveyard dirt, to the sky. The black earth trembles, rises in a wall, and crashes down on Rodéss, burying him and the lion beneath hundreds of tons of soil.

“I have no master!” Rodéss bursts out from under the earth, riding the white-hot lion.

“Then who is he to you?” the snake lifts Luter with her tail. My ex-husband holds onto the cobra’s hood.

“We are all equal before the face of one whose name you don’t even dare speak!” the lion lunges at the snake. Rodéss strikes Luter’s body with the sword.

“Who are you against a thousand-year-old magic?” Luter laughs, looking at the wound without a drop of blood. The snake knocks Rodéss off the lion’s back.

“Hold him!” I shout from the balcony, unable to bear the tension. The lion manages to catch Rodéss with his massive paw and returns him to his back.

“What’s going on with you two?” Kylie and Daniel enter the apartment. “It’s so noisy,” the girl peeks from the balcony. “What is that? Daniel!”

“What is it, dear?” my sleepy friend comes out onto the balcony. “Rodéss! What’s happening?”

“Our help in their rescue was seen as the work of jailers. Look what magicians from the afterlife are doing,” Rodéss explains with a smile.

“Well, I’ll be,” Daniel smirks. “They’re willing to pay any price for revenge, helping this fool,” he laughs from the balcony.

“Those words are unnecessary!” Luter spins the remaining leaves on the trees above the forest, sending a hurricane toward our windows.

“Ladies,” Daniel pulls us back into the apartment. He ignites the cloud of leaves. The flaming sphere crashes down on Luter. The reanimated corpse catches fire while riding the snake.

“That’s not enough to get rid of me!” Luter shakes the flames off himself; they extinguish as if they’re underground.

“Daniel! Local magicians are helping him,” Rodéss shouts. “Don’t you think we should ask our friend for a favor?”

“Vilena!” Daniel calls up to the heavens.

“Why don’t you ask the main man for help?” Kylie wonders, looking at her husband.

“If he allowed the magicians to do this, it means he wants to be amused and test us,” Daniel grins. “Vilena, please come down to us for a moment! We need your help!”

“You can’t manage without me?” Vilena descends from the heavens. She strikes Luter with a shockwave, knocking him off the snake. The sorceress’s power pins the reanimated corpse to the ground. Rodéss directs the lion. The powerful paw presses down on Luter. With his second paw, the lion strikes the snake, knocking off some of her golden scales, exposing the veins with my blood.

“Why interfere in other people’s business?” a familiar male voice says in displeasure. “You always do this, my dear mother-in-law!” Adeya’s husband strikes Vilena in the back, sending a powerful wave of air with a spell.

“You never change,” Vilena replies with disdain, turning to him. “Hitting me in the back, and like a girl, no less! I told my daughter not to marry you right away. She’d be smarter then,” the sorceress sighs, throwing her son-in-law into the forest.

“Rodéss!” I shout to my eternal husband, pointing at the snake flying toward him and the lion with her jaws open.

“It’s time to end this!” the lion leaps toward the snake. Rodéss pushes off and pierces the snake’s head, driving his superheated sword through the golden scales. My blood freezes in my veins when the point reaches my blood inside the snake.

“Rodéss!” Vilena shouts. “Don’t! Jasmin’s blood is in there!” Rodéss pulls the sword out of the killed snake. Vilena whispers a spell over Luter. The spirit of magic leaves the dead body, burning up in a flash. The body is carried away to the grave. Adeya’s husband returns from the forest. He doesn’t manage to cast a spell. “I don’t have time for you right now,” Vilena preempts him, sending her son-in-law into the same grave, bound by invisible fetters.

“Vilena! Do something,” Rodéss asks, jumping onto the lion, pushing off and leaping onto our balcony.

“I'm sorry, my powers are limited by the local magic. And this is foreign magic,” Vilena says helplessly.

“Rodéss,” I whisper, realizing that the blood is gradually stopping, my heart is faltering.

“Warm her body!” a shout comes from the street! “Raise her temperature!”

“Daniel! Rodéss!” Kylie points to the wall. They ignite a painting permeated with the fiery sap of the earth’s depths. “Harder!” the whole wall radiates heat, but I feel only a slight warmth on my freezing body.

“Adeya,” I whisper, happy to see the good woman.

“Yes, Jasmin, I'm here,” Adeya smiles. She whispers a spell—I feel the blood start to move through my veins and arteries, as if stones are moving along a river, hitting the banks.

“Try, daughter. You can do it. You’re succeeding. How did you learn that? Even I don’t know that spell,” Vilena quietly expresses her surprise.

“It won’t last long,” Adeya says with frustration in between spells.

“Jasmin,” Rodéss takes my hand. “You still have time to voluntarily agree to work with us,” he reminds me of our plans.

“What do I need to do?” I ask my eternal husband, exhausted.

“Sign the agreement,” he pulls out a sheet of paper, saturated with the earth’s fiery blood, from under his cloak.

“I don’t need to read it, I hope?” I smile at Rodéss.

“No need, my dear. I’ve checked everything thoroughly myself,” he smiles, gently and with care.

“You are the most attentive one,” I reach out my hand to him.

“Just bear with it a little longer,” Rodéss presses my cut palm against the contract. My blood speeds up so much that my body straightens with tension. My entire life, to the last drop, passes through the paper fibers and returns back into my body. I pull my hand away. A bloody heraldic lion remains on the contract. “Don’t be afraid of anything,” he quietly reassures me. “We’ll wait for you here.”

“Do I have to leave?” I am surprised by Rodéss’s last words. My soul detaches from my body, severing all ties with the mundane world. An unknown force lifts me out of the apartment onto the street, carrying me above the night forest. It is so light inside. There is no panic, fear, or regrets. Only confidence in having done the right thing. Most of all, I want to return to my eternal husband, to Rodéss. I fly above the road to the largest intersection in the district. I freeze in the air. I am drawn toward the ground.

“Well, we meet at last,” a man greets me, smiling welcomingly, in the center of the intersection. “They didn’t tell you anything about me. You’re a smart girl; you understand I’m not who you initially thought. Rodéss explained to you—we work separately.”

“He explained,” I smile modestly, feeling on the verge of life and death.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine with you now. ‘Compitales’ will take care of your valuable soul. And you will help us with closing contracts,” he shows the contract, signed with my personal bloody lion. “You are lucky with your husband and your friends. They are the best we have. It won’t be difficult for you to jump into the work. What work,” he chuckles at his own words. “You’ll enjoy this so much that you’ll get pleasure from every contract and a bonus directly from me. Believe me, this life is much better than the ordinary human one on Earth.”

“I believe you,” I reply, understanding that my earthly life didn’t particularly delight me.

“Don’t worry about your ex-husband. Vilena has already helped you by incinerating the spell that revived him. And I have gotten rid of Luter’s soul forever. You will never see him again,” the man reassures me with the look of a supreme ruler.

“Thank you for your help,” I say, my voice still weak.

“We are grateful for your arrival at ‘Compitales’. Be sure to rest for a few days, gather your strength. You will need it for your first tour of the organization’s depths,” he smiles, pointing toward the intersection. “The contract is in safe hands. I will keep it in my personal library, where no one but me has access,” he hides the sheet soaked with my blood.

“Can I go to my husband?” I ask, realizing my strength is abandoning me.

“You even ask,” he smiles like a friend. “Consider yourself already home,” with a wave of his hand, he transports me back to the apartment, into the embrace of my eternal husband.

“How did the meeting with our boss go?” Rodéss greets me in a soft voice.

“Your boss is pleasant,” I answer, recalling the conversation with the man at the intersection.

“Now yours too,” he reminds me, laying me down on the bed and covering me with a blanket.

“Where is everyone?” I look around the empty apartment.

“The danger is over. Everyone left, understanding that you need rest and peace,” Rodéss explains in a whisper. “We can see everyone tomorrow, but for now, rest.”

“Lie down with me,” I call him to join me under the covers. “You are my eternal husband now.”

“I was hoping to hear that phrase,” Rodéss lies down under the blanket with a satisfied smile, pressing close to me, warming me with his heat.

“Am I dead?” the thought only now comes to my mind.

“We are talking right now, so you are alive,” Rodéss evades.

“Fine, you don’t have to say it,” I realize it is hard to remain alive while settling into a job like this. “We’ve been given a few days off.”

“We’ll see how you manage to endure these days at home,” Rodéss smirks. “By tomorrow evening, you’ll be itching to go to work.”

“Why are you so sure?” I turn toward my husband.

“All newcomers go through it. It’s much more interesting there than being a human,” he sighs dreamily, stroking my hair.

“And you paint beautifully,” I examine the picture covering the entire wall.

“Your beauty inspired me,” Rodéss smiles slyly.

“Let’s sleep, my sweet flatterer,” I stroke the arm he is embracing me with.

“It’s the honest truth,” he says seriously, with a smile.

“Goodnight, my eternal husband,” I turn to kiss him goodnight, but I don’t see him; I see Luter. My heart painfully contracts in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut. I open my eyes and see my eternal husband.

“Sweet dreams, my eternal wife,” I hear from Rodéss, who kisses me tenderly before sleep. I fall asleep, watching the sunrise over the forest. Here is the long-awaited morning sun.

Добавьте описание своего продукта, которое будет полезно для ваших клиентов. Добавьте эксклюзивные свойства вашего продукта, которые заставят клиентов покупать его. Напишите свой собственный текст и настройте его в настройках магазина в вкладке Стилизовать.

“You sleep late, kids,” Kylie and Daniel wake us up around lunchtime.

“Well, we only just went to sleep this morning,” a groggy Rodéss replies.

“And we haven’t been to sleep at all,” Kylie says playfully, looking at Daniel.

“What were you two doing?” Rodéss grins.

“Baking you some cupcakes,” Kylie says, setting a basket on the table. “Daniel, could you please make us some tea?”

“Be right there,” Daniel always brings his own utensils when he visits us. Now he has brought a teapot with a glowing heat layer. The water boils in a matter of seconds. “Tea is brewing!” he calls out from the kitchen.

“I need to wash up,” I say, getting out of bed. I’m wearing a gorgeous red dress with white lace.

“You’ve certainly dressed your little wife up,” Kylie compliments.

“It’s a small wedding gift,” Rodéss says, getting out of bed in a suit and kissing my cheek. “Let’s go wash up.”

“Don’t take too long in there; I know you newlyweds,” Kylie sends us off with a smirk.

“How do you like the dress?” Rodéss asks, warming the water in his hands as he washes his face. “You can do that too, by the way. Give it a try.”

“It’s beautiful. How? Like this?” I cup water in my palms, mentally warming it to the desired temperature. I wash my face with the warm water. “This is convenient!”

“You can take a bath if you want to. No need to break down doors anymore,” he says with a smile. “You lower your hands, think about the water temperature you want, wait a little, and you can bathe. That’s how you keep it warm when it cools down.”

“Won’t I burn myself?” I ask, a little frightened, knowing the temperature his hands can reach.

“Don’t worry about that,” Rodéss reassures me. “The effect is on the surrounding world. You can’t harm yourself. Wash up and join us,” he kisses me and returns to our friends.

“I’ll be quick,” I say, closing the door behind Rodéss. I heat the water. I take off the dress and lie down in the tub. It feels so good to lie here and not think about anything, though I have many thoughts. And each one pulls me in. Not now. I need to wash quickly and get back to my friends and colleagues. The water gradually turns wine-colored, like that time I dropped the glass of wine. Strange. I haven’t dropped anything into the water this time. And it isn’t wine. “Rodéss!” I cry out from the bathroom.

“What happened?” my worried husband rushes in at my scream. “Is that blood?” he asks, staring into the tub with horror.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I shrink back, as if hiding in a corner from some terrifying monster.

“It’s all right,” he smiles, showing me the wound that was left on my arm. “This happens,” he runs his fingers across my palm. The opened cut closes up. The skin smooths out as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you, darling,” I say, kissing him gratefully.

“Are you worried about something?” he asks, looking intently at my troubled eyes.

“Yesterday before bed. Or this morning,” I correct myself, remembering when we finally fell asleep. “I saw Luter. Then I squeezed my eyes shut, looked again, and saw you instead. Why is this happening?”

“When you gradually transition from a former life to the present one, you sometimes have visions from the past. Try not to react strongly to them; they’ll disappear easily and quickly then,” Rodéss, who is experienced in these matters, explains.

“All right. Thank you, darling,” I kiss my husband’s hand, and he kisses mine. He runs his fingers through the water, purifying it to the clarity of a mountain stream.

“I can stay with you if you like,” he offers support, knowing I’m still anxious.

“No need, thank you. Go to them. I’ll join you in a moment,” my desire to bathe has vanished. I stand up, washing away the fright. I put on the ironed red dress my husband gave me. I enter the apartment, which is completely unrecognizable. Instead of the old ones, there are new windows made of expensive wood. The furniture is new, upholstered in red velvet. On the walls are not old, peeling wallpaper, but heated paintings that, when cool, look like large painted canvases. Our friends are dressed like us, in their best clothes. “That’s a beautiful dress,” I say to Kylie, who is wearing a bright lime-green dress.

“Thank you, friend,” Kylie smiles. “Yours is much more gorgeous,” she examines my dress with a slight envy.

“Daniel, I barely recognize you. You usually look so ordinary in casual clothes. In a suit, you’re indistinguishable from a high-society gentleman,” I compliment my husband’s modest friend.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” he thanks me, minding his manners.

“Why are we dressed like this?” I ask Rodéss.

“You’ll have to get used to it. These are our regular clothes. When you’re sealing a deal, you have to look as though you have everything the other party could possibly wish for,” my eternal husband explains.

“A clever move. Is this a kind of advertisement?” I guess the nature of the slight, artificial flair.

“It’s easier to persuade someone that way, even if they have doubts,” Kylie seductively runs her hand over Daniel’s face.

“It’s working so far,” Daniel says, relaxed, gazing enraptured at his wife.

“It always works,” Rodéss assures me. “Let’s have breakfast and get going!”

“Are we going somewhere?” the news is slightly unexpected for me.

“Did you think we’d just sit at home for our days off?” Kylie smirks. “We need to spend them lavishly and enjoyably. At the same time, we’ll celebrate your wedding and your new lifetime job. We can’t let all the opportunities that our work, in the person of the Supreme, generously gives us go to waste.”

“These cupcakes are excellent,” I praise another culinary masterpiece.

“Kylie treated us today,” a proud and satisfied Daniel says.

“So you’re playing humble on purpose to get out of cooking,” I realize Kylie’s innocent deception.

“Cooking for Daniel is happiness. Why would I deprive my beloved husband of happy hours spent in the kitchen?” she smiles slyly, kissing her husband, who is happily chewing a cupcake.

“Did they do anything to you for Vilena’s part in saving me?” I ask cautiously, guessing at the possible consequences.

“Let’s just say,” Rodéss says seriously. “She used to be our debtor; now we owe her. And things will be settled at the highest level without us. The main thing is that you were saved,” my eternal husband kisses me so tenderly that I want to close my eyes every time. I’m afraid to close them and relax. I might just melt with happiness.

“What did Vilena do to Adeya’s husband?” I worry about her most of all. “She won’t mistreat the poor thing after this, will she?”

“She absolutely won’t,” Kylie smiles maliciously. “The mother-in-law sent her son-in-law deep into the earth to reflect on his actions. Where is it ever seen that a mother forgives such treatment of her daughter? Just give her a reason. But Vilena is kind to her friends and ready to help. She never gets involved in any battles or wars. If it concerns her daughter or her daughter’s friend, then it’s best to step aside, or you’ll get hit. No one gets off lightly. You saw everything yourself, didn’t you?” my new outspoken friend reminds me.

“I did. And I’m glad it ended this way. What about Adeya herself? She saved my life. Or extended it until the necessary moment,” I don’t know the correct way to phrase it. I’ll ask Rodéss someday what’s correct. For now, I’ll say it this way. Let them understand what needs to be understood.

“We can stop by and visit her,” Rodéss suggests with a smile. “Just don’t go inside her house,” he seriously reminds of the main condition.

“I learned my lesson that time. You should have seen your face then,” I kiss my husband.

“Our Rodéss is always so serious,” Kylie and Daniel laugh at Rodéss in a friendly way.

“Finish up, eat up, let’s go!” a joyful Daniel urges us. “Long-awaited vacation!”

“You go ahead; we’ll catch up,” Rodéss says, seeing our friends out.

“All right, just don’t be too long,” Kylie reminds us, smiling knowingly.

“Jasmin,” Rodéss takes my hands. “I want you to know. I look forward to every second of eternal life with you. Happiness awaits us. Don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I reply playfully to the serious Rodéss. I kiss him on the lips. “Let’s hurry! Happiness awaits us!”

“Where are our raccoon neighbors?” I ask my eternal husband as I step down the stairs.

“We’ll stop by on the way,” Rodéss assures me with a smile.

“We’re going to the raccoons’ forest home? Will we fit in a burrow?” I joke, imagining a tea party underground.

“We won’t have to squeeze much,” Rodéss guides me to the right of the road that leads to the village. “It’s close by.”

“How will we find a burrow in the forest? Especially under a layer of leaves? Or do you know exactly where to look?” I examine the ground beneath my feet. The colored leaves have darkened over the last few grim autumn days.

“We don’t need to search much either,” Rodéss stops between four trees.

“Somewhere here?” I look at the area more closely.

“If my memory serves me, somewhere here,” he listens intently. Sensing the silence, he knocks on all four trees in the same tone, moving clockwise. One, two, three, and four times. The treetops rustle, although there isn’t a single breath of wind. “Let’s move back,” we step a few paces away from the trees.

“What’s going to happen?” I want to be ready. Surprises are rarely pleasant in these parts.

“You’ll see in a moment,” wooden partitions appear between the trees. He walks in from the right. He knocks twice and pushes the wall. The partitions fold, forming a single door. I walk up to Rodéss. He turns the handle and enters, leading me after him.

“You came so early! We’re not ready!” a woman in an apron rushes about the house among the trees, which is invisible from the outside, trying to set the table. Three children scurry under her feet.

“I confess, we were expecting you a little later,” a man with a black mustache greets us.

“Don’t worry,” Rodéss soothes him. “We won’t stay long. We’re going on vacation soon.”

“A vacation for some, and a rest before the first day of work for others,” I remind them of my presence.

“Yes, forgive me, dear. These are our raccoon neighbors. You haven’t seen them like this before,” he escorts me into the house. “Old Martin, his wife Tyra. The children: Thomas, Amira, and Rodéss.”

“We named the youngest after your husband,” Martin says proudly. “We owe him our salvation from the local ill-wishers.”

“Stop it,” my eternal husband says modestly. “Anyone would have done the same in my place. We can’t allow good people to be victimized just because they don’t fit someone’s idea of normalcy.”

“Why were you raccoons at our house?” This interests me the most.

“Mister Rodéss was protecting us that way. There was no other way to hide from the local sorcerers,” Martin explains.

“Martin and his family were living in our house. When the villagers started persecuting ordinary people, I helped them hide. I’ve offered them to return. They don’t want to,” Rodéss recounts.

“It’s much better for us here,” Martin confirms with satisfaction. “When Mister Rodéss—“

“Don’t call me that. How many times do I have to ask?” Rodéss remarks seriously.

“Sorry, Rodéss. When your husband asked us to look after you, we didn’t hesitate to agree. We immediately went along with it,” he nervously helps his wife put cups on the table.

“But you appeared before Rodéss did,” I recall my first encounter with the raccoons when I had just arrived.

“We learned about your arrival beforehand,” Martin glances at Rodéss, ready to stop if he starts revealing anything unnecessary.

“It’s fine, tell whatever you want. We have no more secrets,” Rodéss reassures him with a smile.

“There’s not much to tell. Mister Rodéss—Rodéss,” he corrects himself, looking guiltily at my eternal husband. “He helped us, and we tried to help him by helping you.”

“And I’m grateful to you for that. You supported me during the most difficult time,” I remember how Martin told me where to find a shovel. They used their little paws to help drag Luter’s dead body across the damp, cold ground.

“It was our pleasure to help you,” his wife says, seating the children at the table. “Have some tea. The buns are fresh out of the oven.”

“Tyra, please don’t fuss so much,” Rodéss invites the caring woman to the table.

“But you’re only here for such a short time,” Tyra laments. “I want you to be comfortable for at least a few minutes.”

“We are comfortable here,” Rodéss assures her with a smile.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of this because of me,” I apologize to the whole family. “The children especially had an unsettled time.”

“Oh, dear Jasmine, if you call this an unsettled time, then the events before your husband Rodéss appeared should be called a nightmare. You have no idea what the locals did to force out the residents of the houses where you are living now. They set clothes on fire right on people. They kidnapped children, threatened to kill them if they didn’t leave. They broke windows in the winter. They beat men on their way home from the forest, stealing their firewood. They broke the pipes that brought water to the houses. This is only a small part of what happened,” Tyra recalls the events of that time with horror.

“Why didn’t you leave immediately if it was so difficult to stay?” I wonder what people are willing to endure in order to remain.

“You didn’t leave either, for some reason,” Martin reminds.

“I had my own personal reasons for that,” I recall my promise to Luter to stay under any circumstances, which morphed into a desire to spend an eternity here with Rodéss.

“And we had our own compelling reasons for it,” Martin says, looking at the children. “Only here can they live, nourished by the clean forest air and Rodéss’s support.”

“Children born in these parts cannot leave their native land. Otherwise, the connection is broken and they die,” Rodéss explains. “They had to stay. The other families who couldn’t endure it and left lost the children who were born here. At that time, it was mostly young families living here, just starting their lives together, having children, hoping for family happiness away from dangerous cities.”

“It turns out it’s not as dangerous in the cities as it is here,” Martin says, sipping his tea.

“Why are you still hiding? Why don’t you at least go out into the forest in human form? Haven’t the persecutions died down?” I remember the fate of Adeya’s husband.

“They will never die down,” Tyra sighs heavily. “There is still a whole village of hereditary sorcerers and witches. Adeya is the only one with a bright soul.”

“Why doesn’t anyone harm her if everyone else is so bad?” I certainly wouldn’t want her to be harmed.

“Only her husband harmed Adeya. Thankfully, you got rid of him yesterday,” Tyra quietly rejoices. “The others don’t touch her because they fear the wrath of her mother, Vilena.”

“Will the influence of their powers on the land and on all these places not stop as long as they are alive?” I realize how serious the problem is.

“Yes, exactly,” Rodéss confirms the unpleasant conclusion. “To cleanse the land, we need to get rid of all practitioners of local magic.”

“And how can that be done?” I get to the core of the problem.

“That is not within our power,” Rodéss regrets.

“Then who can do it?” I want to find the solution no one wants to mention.

“Our patron and yours,” Rodéss says seriously.

“Let’s ask for help,” I say, looking decisively at my husband.

“You want to kill them all?” Rodéss asks flatly.

“Are there no other options?” I don’t want to stoop to their level.

“No one will willingly stop practicing magic,” my husband lowers his gaze.

“How can we force them?” I voice the main question that now haunts me. “Who can create a spell stronger than their combined power?”

“Only Vilena. We've already asked the impossible of her. The next request will obligate us even more,” Rodéss says, looking troubled.

“It’s for the sake of her daughter, and the good people in the village and beyond,” I remind him, thinking of the raccoon family.

“What exactly do you want Vilena to do?” Rodéss is growing more curious, though he knows the odds are slim.

“We need to make it so that all the mages’ spells turn back on them. The more they cast, the worse off they’ll be,” it sounds cruel coming from me. “Then they’ll all understand what it feels like for those they try to harm.”

“Not all sorcerers try to harm others,” Martin reminds us. “Not all of them chose this path. And they all practice differently. Some help people. Maybe not through light methods, but they help. It’s like your contracts. Though the price for them is high, people get what they desire.”

“It won’t be all sorcerers who suffer, only those who spread evil,” I explain more precisely so they understand me better.

“Jasmine, do you realize what you’re proposing?” Rodéss asks seriously.

“Yes. It’s a violation of the existing order of things,” I state the true name of my plans. “That’s exactly what we need to free the land from evil.”

“It’s good that you realize it,” Rodéss sighs. “Then the vacation will have to be postponed.”

“In that case, you can calmly have your tea and pastries,” Tyra says happily.

“We need to let Kylie and Daniel know somehow,” I remember they are waiting for us.

“No need to let us know anything. You’re planning everything so loudly that everyone around hears it,” Kylie walks into the house. Distraught Daniel follows her.

“We’ll have to ask my friend for help again,” Daniel sighs heavily, closing the door behind him.

“Where do we start?” Kylie has more enthusiasm than I do when it comes to anything besides work and household chores. And right now, all such matters are connected to me.

“Before we ask Vilena for help, we need to think everything through ourselves,” Rodéss prepares for difficult and protracted deliberation.

“We have plenty of time. We have a whole vacation ahead,” Daniel sadly reminds us. “These are wonderful pastries,” he perks up, having tasted Tyra’s creation.

“Thank you, Mister Daniel,” the hostess smiles and thanks him.

“Our friends still call us Misters?” Daniel says wearily.

“As you can see,” Rodéss smiles.

“Didn’t you tell them not to?” he chews the pastry with pleasure, talking to his best friend.

“I repeated it many times,” Rodéss also takes a pastry. He bites it in a way that makes me want one too. “Martin still remembers our request sometimes, but Tyra can’t do otherwise. That’s just how she talks. It’s good that the children haven’t gotten used to those loud words yet,” he says happily, looking at the little ones sitting opposite him.

“That’s because they still need to be taught manners,” Tyra scolds the children with a smile.

“Tenderness for children is much more valuable than good manners,” Rodéss smiles kindly.

“Sometimes even tenderness needs to be diluted with a drop of reality,” Martin says in a didactic voice, looking at the children with a fatherly smile.

“Do you understand that this is a war against an entire village of sorcerers?” Rodéss reminds us, unable to calm down about the topic at hand.

“Everyone understands perfectly well,” Kylie replies seriously. “To torment people for so many years! Those sorcerers have no conscience. And what they say about you! You saved them back then, and now they call you jailers. We should have left them in the cities. Let them warm themselves on bonfires,” she exclaims indignantly, adjusting Daniel’s hair. “The ingrates!”

“Why are you taking all this so seriously?” I am surprised at the exaggerated problem. “Just make a spell, and that’s it.”

“Well, you try to make one. There are many of them, they’re all strong and angry, especially after yesterday,” Kylie reminds. “To call Vilena, we have to get to the village. And now that will be extremely difficult. We also need to leave here carefully so as not to bring trouble upon this family.”

“I'm sorry I dragged you into this,” I apologize to everyone.

“It’s high time this was put to an end,” Tyra says resolutely. The others agree.

“We need to get to the village,” Rodéss reminds us of the main task. “Then summon Vilena. There might be complications with that.”

“Why? It worked last time,” I am surprised by the complications after yesterday.

“Our patron is already concerned. We’re interfering in human affairs. Yesterday, obviously, the sorcerers crossed the line. The problem was resolved, and everything’s fine.”

“How is it fine if the land is still poisoned and we can’t safely go outside?” I can’t accept the words about the patrons’ dissatisfaction.

“If we ask Vilena to help us again, it will be a second favor from above, for which we’ll have to pay from below,” Rodéss explains.

“Aren’t those above interested in us helping good people?” everything seems simpler than they are making it out to be.

“We shouldn’t interfere at all,” Daniel reminds. “We have our own tasks, which we perform well. That’s how it should continue,” he hints at how completely our idea contradicts common sense.

“We must do this,” I say firmly and confidently, while I can afford to. “My first work days with you are soon. If I’ll be fired for this later, they’d better not hire me now.”

“We hear you,” Kylie smiles. “Let’s go to the village,” she stands up from the table.

“I'm with you!” Martin volunteers as an assistant.

“You have more important things to do,” Rodéss keeps Martin out of our venture. “You need to protect your family.”

“We shouldn’t leave through the door,” Kylie reminds us. “They might be waiting for us in the forest.”

“We should teleport straight to the village,” I suggest the best option. “Can you do that?”

“We can, but not from this forest. We need to get out of the house first, and only then go to the village. Our powers here are like a drop of water against a fire,” Kylie explains.

“We’re not going through the door,” Rodéss sighs, taking my hand.

“Let’s go,” Daniel and Kylie leave first. Rodéss carries me right after them.

“Look out!” Kylie screams. Rodéss manages to push me behind a tree, taking the blow himself. “Run to the village, we’ll cover you!”

“We have to run!” Rodéss grabs me by the arm. They’re chasing us. Among them is Rolan, Adeya’s son. Daniel and Kylie fight off the others. “Repeat after me,” he runs between the trees, creating a wall between us and the pursuers. Trees snap and fall from the magical strikes.

“Catch the arrogant fools!” shouts one of the mages, throwing a spell. Rodéss is thrown back by the shockwave.

“How can’t you understand?” I stop in front of them.

“Stop,” the enemy leader commands.

“Everyone can live in peace. Why commit evil against others? It won’t make anyone happier,” I try to convince the mages.

“Let’s retreat,” the commander whispers to the others. “No sudden movements,” the three elders back away.

“I’m not afraid of them!” Rolan charges at me. The heraldic lion leaps from behind my back.

“Don’t!” I barely manage to shout. The lion jumps over Rolan and chases after the others.

“It’s good to have such a protector,” Kylie says enviously. “How’s your second protector doing?” Daniel helps Rodéss get up.

“I’m fine,” Rodéss brushes himself off, checking if he’s wounded. “How are things with you?”

“We handled it,” Kylie says contentedly. “How did your lion come to life in foreign territory?”

“I don’t know. He lives his own life. I know very little about him,” I’ll have to get to know him better.

“You’re lucky with protectors,” my friend hints at Rodéss.

“That’s for sure,” now I take my husband’s arm and lead him toward the village. I know where it is.

“Only a little further,” as we exit the forest, another spell snatches Daniel back into the thicket.

“Run, I’ll deal with this,” Kylie returns to the forest.

“Are we abandoning them?” I’m surprised that Rodéss immediately keeps going.

“They’ll manage,” he says confidently. “Vilena! We need your help again!” he calls out to the sky.

“Even if she comes, she won’t do anything,” the man from the first house threatens Adeya with a knife.

“Did they mistake you for one of their own?” Rodéss says, smirking.

“I am one of their own,” he declares proudly.

“Idiot!” the smirk turns into a laugh. “They put you out front because you’re useless. And when Vilena comes, she’ll burn you on the spot.”

“She won’t do anything!” someone in the crowd shouts. “She can’t harm ordinary people.”

“Ordinary people, no, but not criminals. Notice that I’m not the one holding a knife to her daughter,” Rodéss’s gaze hardens, forcing the charlatan’s descendant to think and doubt.

“Don’t listen to him! No one will dare touch us as long as Adeya is in our hands!” the scream from the crowd repeats, trembling on some letters.

“A dubious statement,” Rodéss smirks.

“I believe I was called,” Vilena appears in the village in a rage. “Rodéss, be a dear,” she hints with a look.

“Of course, dear friend.” Rodéss rushes in like a blazing whirlwind, sweeping the resident of the first house away from Adeya. The knife point passes close to her face, missing her.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” Vilena asks me, enraged at the villagers.

“We need to make all evil created to harm good people turn back on the creators of the spells,” I state the main idea.

“An interesting idea,” Vilena smiles. “Daughter, I need your help.”

“With pleasure, Mom,” Adeya joins her mother. Together they utter a spell. People who haven’t harmed others leave the crowd. Some evil sorcerers try to break free from the spell. Adeya immediately pulls them back.

“Mom, please don’t!” Rolan pleads from behind, at the edge of the forest.

“Fine, we can spare him,” Vilena generously permits, continuing to enchant the villagers.

“That was a mistake!” Rolan throws a spell at Vilena’s and Adeya’s backs. Rodéss and Daniel intercept the blow, allowing them to continue.

“That’s not nice,” Kylie says, hurling Rolan toward the others whose powers are about to turn against them.

“Forgive me, Adeya. People like this don’t change,” Vilena asks her daughter’s forgiveness for what she’s about to do. “He’s simply a copy of his wicked father,” she says with disgust. She enchants the evil even harder. The mages try to break the boundary holding them in a circle before Vilena. Adeya holds each one and all of them together.

“All at once!” one commands in the circle, engulfed by Vilena's spell. A shockwave shatters the chains created by Adeya. The mages scatter. Kylie mercilessly tears them to shreds, Daniel throws them back into the circle. Rodéss cuts off their escape routes with a scorching wall. Wild spells break free, grazing me. The lion doesn’t allow any harm, batting away all the blows.

“Keep going, friend!” Rodéss shouts when all the sorcerers are gathered together again. Vilena restores the spell with Adeya’s help.

“And what’s going on here?” our Patron asks.

“We have to neutralize the evil emanating from the village,” Rodéss explains.

“These mages aren’t under my patronage. You should have told me; I would have relayed it, and they would have been explained everything,” he expresses surprise at our independence.

“They haven’t considered anyone an authority for a long time,” Kylie says the unwelcome words.

“Is that really true?” Patron swells with anger.

“It is,” Daniel steps up to defend his wife.

“It was my idea,” I admit that I instigated the whole adventure.

“You’re not even working yet, and you’re already rebelling in someone else’s domain?” Patron smirks.

“I apologize. Wouldn’t it be better to isolate the true rebels from those who live by the rules?” I hint that his anger shouldn’t be directed at us.

“What are you talking about? The sorcerers made a mistake, it happens,” Luter’s expression brightens. “They momentarily forgot whose instructions and rules they should obey.”

“We don’t owe anyone anything!” several shouts immediately erupt from the circle.

“I beg your pardon?” the stunned Patron listens to the words from the crowd.

“We’re on our own! These are our lands! You all have no business here!” the angry shouts of indignation continue.

“Yes, they’ve gone astray,” Patron realizes that the situation is exactly as we describe it. “Continue, Vilena,” he says calmly, releasing the sorceress’s power. “How foolishly you resist,” with his gaze, he adds strength to Vilena’s spell. The circle not only restrains the mages but also makes them writhe in pain. Adeya only looks at Rolan’s suffering.

“I can spare your son,” Patron offers.

“No, thank you,” Adeya replies harshly and indifferently. “He is not my son.”

“Even simpler,” Patron opens his palm, then clenches his fist, completing Vilena’s spell. “Why didn’t you call me right away to deal with this?” he wonders, looking at Rodéss, Daniel, and Kylie.

“We thought you knew and were deliberately testing us,” Rodéss voices the assumption.

“I’ll have to adopt your idea,” Patron smiles contentedly at the new method of checking contractors. “I wasn’t testing you. If I had to watch everyone, I wouldn’t have time for anything else. I need you to cover for me when I’m busy with other matters.”

“Why did you tell him?” Kylie looks at Rodéss, reproaching him.

“Thank you for your help, honored Vilena. We will certainly repay you for your assistance,” Patron thanks the sorceress, kissing her powerful hand.

“You owe me nothing,” Vilena replies with a smile. “Your new contractor came up with an excellent idea to protect my daughter from all the darkness surrounding her,” she looks at me with gratitude.

“You aren’t even working yet, and you’ve already received both a reprimand and a reward,” Patron smirks.

“Please forgive everyone for the chaos I brought into your lives,” I apologize to everyone at once.

“We’re just starting to live,” Kylie says, laughing. “And we should be thanking you for such a gift.”

“Thank you, dear,” my eternal husband kisses me. “My eternal wife,” he boasts proudly, overjoyed.

“You are my most wonderful couples,” Patron praises. “And I have a gift for your help, Adeya,” a man steps out from behind him.

“Nathaniel!” Adeya greets the man with a hug.

“Thank you!” Vilena expresses her gratitude.

“Thank you!” the girl cries with joy. “We haven’t seen each other since childhood.”

“And you’ve loved each other all your lives,” Vilena adds, smiling.

“I know. That’s why I’m returning him to you. I’ll transfer him to work as a contractor so you can see each other. He’s a good lad; he volunteered for my service when Adeya married someone else.”

“Traitor!” Rolan throws a spell at his mother; it returns, knocking him back with a searing blow to the chest.

“Well, that checks the work,” Patron laughs. “Everyone disperse! The villagers will live as they should. Vilena returns home. Adeya lives happily ever after with Nathaniel. And all of you,” he addresses me and Rodéss, and Kylie and Daniel. “You’ve lingered here! Go on vacation! I’ll expect you at Compitales in a week!”

“Ready?” Rodéss asks.

“Let’s celebrate!” I kiss my eternal husband, soaring into an unknown future with the best man in all the worlds.

“And now tell me, dear realtor. How could I possibly have the slightest desire to sell this apartment, or even to leave this place at all? I lost everything here, only to gain so much more. I gained an eternal, beloved husband. My work is worthy of the purest envy. We cleansed this area so that good people could live here normally. And now you show up and ask me to sell the apartment where I’ve poured my soul?” At last, I no longer need to hide beneath the guise of a grey-haired old woman. I am becoming a young girl again. And I can’t help but smile, looking at the woman who has been rendered speechless.

“Sign a contract with me,” she pleads, looking at me with naive eyes.

“What do you desire?” I ask in a professional tone.

“I want to live here and find eternal happiness with a good man, just as you have,” she begs like a woman who has suffered from loneliness.

“I’m on maternity leave right now,” I rub my small belly, where Rodéss’s and my child awaits its arrival. “We’ll think together about how to help you. Take my hand.”

“What are you going to do?” the realtor is both afraid and intensely curious.

“I want to make you happy. I don’t promise you a life in these houses. Only Rodéss and I live here, along with Kylie, Daniel, and their little daughter, Alemi. But there are many good places in the world. Don’t be afraid, give me your hand.” I take the realtor’s cold, trembling hand.

“Will it hurt?” she looks into my eyes, which are full of the joy of life.

“You’ll like it,” I say, and transport her to the crossroads. “Darling!”

“Yes, dear. Is something wrong?” Rodéss appears, looking alarmed.

“Everything’s fine,” I reassure him with a smile. “We have a new client.”

“Another realtor?” he asks me in a whisper.

“What can you do? Everyone wants happiness. They come to us themselves,” I hint that it’s not my fault.

“Alright, we’ll discuss the contract terms, and you head back home,” Rodéss says seriously but with a smile, looking at my belly. “Make the picture brighter; the cold is coming.”

“Of course, darling,” I kiss my eternal husband goodbye. “I wish you happiness,” I tell the realtor woman. “And it’s time for us to go home. Did you hear how daddy gets cross when we walk around in this weather?” I whisper to the baby as I return to our apartment. “We’re well-behaved, aren’t we?” I make the heat in the walls stronger. “While daddy’s at work, we’ll eat the cupcakes that Aunt Kylie baked just for us. Pregnancy definitely gives you an appetite. It’s nice to work knowing that everything beautiful is preserved. Especially the figure. I just don’t know what to do about all those people lined up for our apartment. Our Rodéss already has so much work. I can’t send them all to him.”

“Then send them straight to me,” Patron offers. “I always find interesting offers for everyone who desires them. You two were satisfied, weren’t you?”

“Yes, we’re satisfied,” I recall, smiling, what this happiness cost us. “Will you stay for dinner?”

“Who else is coming?” Patron asks with interest.

“A small family circle. Daniel and Kylie with Alemi. Rodéss will be free soon. He promised to bring something special from far away for dinner,” I relay my eternal husband’s words.

“Something special is good,” Patron says, intrigued. “Call me when you’re ready. And I’ll bring the best wine from my cellars.”

“Don’t forget the non-alcoholic wine!” I remind him of my condition.

“Of course. You don’t have to remind me,” he smirks knowingly. He leaves through the door, knowing that this is what I'm used to.

“Let’s take a nap for now,” I tell the baby in my belly, lying down on the soft bed. “Walls with heat are certainly good, but a warm, soft blanket is nicer.” I cover myself over my head, as is my habit, and wait for my beloved eternal husband.