“Siri, I'm sorry.”

The guy took my hand in his, his palm hot, the tips of my icy fingers touching the beating vein on his wrist. I glanced shyly at the young man and saw more sympathy and understanding in his face than I was used to.

I just burst into tears. I talked and talked, staring into Grant's sparkling eyes. I told him what Virtul meant to me, how I had decided to destroy myself after Rizor's announcement of the game's closure, how I had decided to put my body in perfect order before I ended it, because it wasn't right to go to the afterlife looking like a mess. How I used the last of my savings to buy expensive, beautiful clothes and go to the hairdresser. How I had to go to the dentist's because I didn't like brushing my teeth very much and I got cavities. How I found myself in a basement with strangers. How I ended up in a box with a bomb around my neck and how scared I was of the unknown.

I exhaled, catching my breath after a long monologue full of inner pain and worry.

I'd bared my soul to the son of my enemy, and now the embarrassment came in waves. I wish I could escape... if only not to hear that steady, calm breathing, not to feel the warmth of another man's body, not to hear the beating of his heart, not to see the pitiful look in his eyes.

I lowered my eyes and looked down at our hands. Circul Junior was still holding my palm, reassuring me.

“Um, yes, you are here now thanks to tooth decay.” His ridiculous joke broke the tension.

“This proves the theory that ‘if you don't brush your teeth, you'll get in trouble’,” I added with a laugh.

“Trouble?” he looked at me reproachfully.

“I'm sorry,” I said guiltily, lowering my head.

Grant laughed out loud.

“I keep forgetting that you don't like criticism and bad reviews of anything associated with you,” I said with a smirk.

The guy sighed, let go of my hand and yawned, making me yawn too.

“Siri, you're incorrigible,” he scolded me with a smile.

“I know,” I lifted my chin defiantly, proud of my character trait that I really liked.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

I suddenly lost the urge to have fun. There was an ocean of seriousness in Grant's words.

The guy frowned at me. “What? You have that look.”

“Do you thank me for telling you the truth? Grant Circul, you are an extraordinary person.”

The guy grinned, sipped from his mug and then said, staring into the firelight with a look that didn't suit his youthful face: “I've seen a lot in my short life. People have different priorities, the currency of values is an uncertain thing. A person can trade in money, property, but the most expensive things are intangible concepts: feelings, words, truth. Everyone chooses the most valuable things in life.”

I remembered the Church's postulate of seven essential spiritual values: ‘Health, which brings time; time, which experiences love; love, which leads to knowledge; knowledge, which causes development; development, which gives freedom; and freedom, which represents creativity’.

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“And have you set your priorities? What comes first for you?” I smiled and crawled closer to him, where I could lean against him comfortably and feel the warmth of his body.

“Sincerity,” Grant's eyes reflected the flame. “I hate people who lie, who poison the universe with lies. So,” he turned his head in my direction to meet my gaze, “thank you again for your honesty. I appreciate you opening up to me. I understand you better now.”

The guy's quiet voice made me uneasy, my heart racing, heat rising to my cheeks. Circul was too close, staring straight at me, studying me. I pulled back a little, trying not to make any sudden movements. He swallowed. Why had we gone from talking about confessors to talking about understanding?

A tickle crept up my nose. I sneezed. Grant yawned again, made himself comfortable and went back to reading.

I got up to get the blanket off the chair, I was a bit cold and too lazy to close the window – it was too far to walk. The chain jingled pathetically.

I looked at the metal reflecting the flames of the fire. This morning we shortened the leash a few more centimetres and the bomb collar reacted at eighteen paces.

The distance between me and Circul diminished. And the less it became, the more we got to know each other. The distance between us was not only shrinking in physical planes, but our souls were reaching out to each other. And sometimes that frightened me more than a deadly garrotte around my neck.

My unfortunate chain-mate fell asleep with a book in his hands. I laughed silently, took the fantasy volume from his fingers, covered him with a blanket and put a pillow under his head.

I looked at Grant as he slept and thought about the quote I had read this morning.

‘A person always needs a person. At least someone to talk to. To share daily trivialities as well as some spiritual problems. To have someone who cares and listens. An illusion of communication, a guarantee of not being alone. To feel warmth. Even at a distance. To know that you can write to someone and hear a kind word. Because it is wrong for a person to have only himself. One needs support, even a small step, to avoid falling into the abyss of despair. No one should be alone. No one deserves it…’

Yes, I didn't deserve to be lonely. What was wrong with giving in to my feelings, tasting the taste of a relationship?

My heart sank as I remembered Grant's words in the hospital room when he'd thought I was unconscious.

I pretended that I hadn't heard, that I hadn't noticed. But it was painful to catch long, studying glances from the guy I was used to, who had always been there for me and knew all my weaknesses, habits and preferences.

I was pleased by his attention, but at the same time I shuddered at the thought of how he would look at me in the future when he found out that I had killed his father with my own hands.

I kept telling myself that I shouldn't have given in to my feelings and emotions. I was drawn to Grant as a friend, as someone who understood and could listen.

Part of me wanted to stop seeking revenge, to let things go, even to give up the idea of suicide, but the other part of my soul was harder than stone and colder than ice.

My iron determination did not waver before the pleas of my heart. From the tips of my hair to the nails of my toes, I wanted death. Death for my enemy and for myself. And nothing could stop the future. I had already chosen the end.

My eyes fell on the page of the book I'd put aside when I'd covered the president's son with a blanket. ‘People are stupid; given proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it might be true. People’s heads are full of knowledge, facts, and beliefs, and most of it is false, yet they think it all true. People are stupid; they can only rarely tell the difference between a lie and the truth, and yet they are confident they can, and so are all the easier to fool…’

So be it, all right, I'll be stupid. I'll be stupid and delude myself. I will reject any thought of changing my plan. For I have long since decided what is true for me. If it feels like a lie to my heart now, I will be lying to myself to the end.

One of the wizard's rules is: ‘Willfully turning aside from the truth is treason to one's self.’ If so, I'll be a traitor.

I looked up at the brightening sky outside the window; we'd been talking most of the night. I exhaled and locked my joyful heart, which felt free and warm, back into the kennel.

I will be a traitor, putting on a chain the most precious thing I have – the core of my feelings and emotions that rumbles every time I look at Grant. I will be a traitor.

I will be a traitor to my heart.