The next day we got a surprise from the president. He came to our room early in the morning and shocked us with the news.

“Tonight you must visit the Sinist Tower. There's a charity event at 8pm, don't be late.”

We hadn't even tidied ourselves up yet and I was sitting sleepily in front of the mirror, trying to get the comb out of my tangled hair, while Grant was pacing the room with a toothbrush in his mouth. He had a strange habit of never brushing his teeth in front of the sink; he could spend half an hour trampling the carpet while polishing his already perfectly white teeth.

The comb would have kissed the floor as it fell from my news-weakened hands, but it got caught in the tangled strands, so all we had for it was my resounding swallow to break the silence of the bedroom.

“From this day forward, you will attend the meetings I have scheduled for you,” he continued, seeing our silent confusion. The president looked from Grant to me, then back to his son. “All right, be ready at seven.”

Rizor was about to leave the bedroom when I suddenly remembered a small problem.

“One moment. What to do with the bomb around my neck?”

The president paused for a second, then shrugged and said: “We can't magically hide it, since magic doesn't work on it, we'll say it's a piece of jewellery.”

My jaw almost greeted the floor that the comb should have kissed earlier. Who in their right mind would agree to wear these five kilos of literally killer choker around their neck?

Looking ahead, I can say that this ‘wonderful piece of jewellery’ quickly became a spring trend. A week later, all the fashionistas in the capital were walking around with similar collars under their chins. Only their collars were made of lighter materials, much to the envy of my shoulders, which were already aching from the weight. And they weren't filled with explosive substances based on magic and the latest military technology, which made them even more attractive to me…

The door closed, cutting short my naive hopes of a peaceful existence until death. As lovely as our life at Asanor Manor had been, the good times were coming to an end.

Since Grant had no training at his academy and was fooling around all day, the president decided to introduce his son to high society, so that his precious son could build relationships with the government and the prominent oligarchs of Unica (and not even think about Virtul at the same time).

I was tired of fighting with my comb, so I grabbed my manicure scissors and cut the knots out of my hair, not too concerned about the future look of my hair. It was the last thing I wanted to worry about.

I got up from the banquette and, like an apathetic zombie who had suddenly lost all appetite, walked to the bed, fell on the sheets, curled up and tried to make a nest out of the blankets.

“What are you doing?” Grant even took his toothbrush out of his mouth.

“I'm going to sleep. This morning started too badly, I need to sleep over this news to get used to it…”

Stolen story; please report.

“Aren't you going to breakfast?”

I almost peeked out from under my pillow, but then I just shook my head. I don't know if Circul Junior saw my gesture, but no one woke me until late afternoon. Either Grant had suddenly decided to fast, or he had ordered breakfast delivered to the bedroom, which was more likely. But I was so firmly ensconced in the world of my late morning nap that I didn't even smell the food.

Only nightmares could banish my endless silent grumbling against fate. Only nightmares could make every boring and pretentious party in the high society of Unica seem like a little walk to the nearest purgatory.

I woke up very late. Yawned and wiped my sleepy eyes and swollen cheeks. The room was dim, the small lamp on the table by the window illuminating the corner and the armchair where Grant sat, already dressed in his finery.

“We leave in twenty minutes,” Cirkul informed colourlessly, taking a sip of coffee from his mug.

I jumped up abruptly, hesitating whether to go straight to the dressing room or to the bathroom first.

“Couldn't you have woken me earlier?” I muttered to the guy as I ran past.

I picked out the first dress I could find in the dark, grabbed my shoes and hurried to brush my teeth. I didn't bother with my long-suffering hair; I just put it in a bun, pinned it up and sprayed it with hairspray.

I had no time for make-up, but I didn't care about my appearance at the moment, I didn't want to upset Rizor Circul by being late, our deadly contract had a clear clause about appointments and punctuality.

“Change, this dress is awful,” Grant ordered, giving me a sideways glance as I left the bathroom.

“I don't want to. I'm comfortable in this one,” I sat in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of earrings to match the collar from the various sets the president had provided for tonight.

Circul stood up, walked slowly around me in an arc, caught my eye in the reflection, smiled wryly, squinted, and happily poured the contents of his mug onto the sleeve of my dress.

“What are you doing?” I jumped up, gasping for breath with rage. If I'd ever come this close to killing another human being, it was this moment.

The son of the head of the country grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dressing room. He rummaged through the clothes on the racks and pulled out a long brown dress with a small slit down the leg. He held it up to me and turned me around to face the mirror.

“That colour suits you.”

I looked at myself in the mirror in disgust.

“I'm not going to wear this dress that's the colour of a sewer. My life is bad enough, do you want me to show it to the world with the colour of my clothes?”

He laughed and took a pair of black shoes from the shelf.

“And this bag,” the guy tossed me a coral clutch. “It is perfectly mismatched, just what you need.”

I gazed at all this stuff, imagined what I'd look like, and shrugged. I didn't know much about high society fashion; Grant probably knew better. Maybe they all dressed as dummies and scarecrows.

When I returned to the bedroom, Circul gave me a dark look and nodded in agreement. I had to change my earrings so as not to ruin the ridiculous picture.

I glanced down with regret at the puddle of coffee on the floor next to the table. The coffee was so fragrant, he'd wasted it.

“Clean this place up,” Circul ordered, sitting back in his chair and looking like a world ruler.

Outraged, I clenched my palms, itching to punch the face that smiled back at me.

“First you kill me, and now you want me to clean up my blood? You're a real piece of work, Grant Circul.”

He ignored me completely and I decided to channel my anger in the right direction. I swept some clean towels off the dresser, wiped the floor with them and threw them in the hamper.

“Are you going?” Kai knocked on the door.

With a sigh, I looked at myself in the mirror once more. I knew I wouldn't live long enough to be ashamed of this outfit for many days.

“You look gorgeous,” Grant took my right hand and placed it on his forearm. And I didn't even know if it was an ironic statement of fact or an ironic mockery. Or both?

“What have I done to you?”

“Nothing, Siri. It's just that you're the only person I can annoy 24 hours a day.”

I just hummed, remembering that in a little over two months I'd kill his father and run off to die in a beautiful place. I hoped the bomb would be removed by then so I wouldn't have to make the biggest sacrifice to the bomb god ever.