“What other country would you like to be born in?”

“Somewhere in South Korea.”

(from Rina’s interview with ‘Around The World’ magazine)

“Fool?! You completely banged your curly head!” Manya blazed with righteous anger, not letting Yura insert a word. With her hands on her hips, she stepped on him until she completely cornered him.

Yura pressed his shoulder blades against the cold wall, put his palms forward and again tried to calm his raging sister:

“Manya… It won't be long! Just for the job…”

“Won’t be long?!” Manya roared and waved her hand in the direction of a stray dog the size of a great Dane sprawled on the parquet, in whose unwashed fur the burrs were entangled. “And then where will you put it?! Will you throw it back on the street?!”

“Well... I haven't thought about it yet.”

“Haven’t thought! You stopped thinking at all!”

“Manya, we agreed on everything,” Yura whined and touched her wrist. But Manya pulled her hand away, as if she had been burned by nettles.

“We didn't agree! I was against it!”

“I'm out of work! And this dog is my chance to make sensational stuff!” Yura went on the offensive in response, realizing that it would not be possible to soften his sister. The culprit of the quarrel moved its brown eye, got up on its long paws, clattered its claws on the parquet and fell on the light carpet. Fortunately, his sister hasn't noticed it yet.

“So take this dog for yourself! What do I have to do with it?!”

“Manya, I explained it,” Yura sighed wearily. “You just need to take the dog to the instructor's classes and find out what Volkov and his wife know about Rina's disappearance.”

“And how do you imagine it?! How am I going to question them?!”

“Well... I don't know. You'll think of something!” Yura gave up and looked over Manya's shoulder. The dog began to scratch itself behind the ear with delight, strewing the carpet with fleas, burrs and lumps of dried mud.

Manya nervously jerked at the sound and, seeing such a picture, went into a scream:

“Get out of here! Fool dog!”

The dog squinted at her, but it didn't stop scratching. Yura, looking at the dog combing fleas with such pleasure, involuntarily put his hand to his hair and scratched the back of his head.

“It's got fleas like horses! Out, they're already galloping across the carpet!” Manya continued to shout. “How can such a dog be allowed into the house? And to the playground for other dogs?!”

“We'll wipe out the fleas,” Yura wasn’t at a loss. “And we'll take it to the vet.”

Manya glanced sideways at her brother and let out a long sigh. Apparently, she was tired of screaming herself, because she asked more calmly:

“Where did you find it?”

“It’s he, Manya. At the bus stop, lying under the bench. Poor and unhappy.”

“And he followed you?” the sister doubted and again made an attempt to drive the dog off the carpet.

“Followed?” Yura grinned. “As well! Anyone will go for a piece of fresh boiled sausage!”

“Okay. So, we can no longer feed him,” Manya said sarcastically.

But Yura realized that she had given in, so he detached himself from the wall and took a step towards his sister.

“Manya, now we will take the dog to the vet. And then you'll make a phone call and make an appointment with a dog handler…”

“I haven't agreed yet!” Manya shot Yura an angry look. “And how are you going to take this monster to the clinic?”

“Others bring even scarier dogs to the veterinarians. They are familiar!”

“I'm not talking about that! I'm not taking this flea truck in the car!”

“We'll walk. The vet's a couple blocks away. Well, now we are buying the dog.”

“You will bathe! And then scrub the bath with bleach, too!” Manya pressed and turned away. The dog, feeling that she began to thaw, affably beat his powerful tail on the floor. The sound was like a rolling pin hitting the floor. Manya grimaced, but said nothing, instead she looked at the dog with a businesslike look, calculating the ‘front of work’. Fortunately, the coat was short, which means it will not be difficult to rid the dog of burdock. The dog looked up at Manya, stuck out a huge tongue-cloth and bared strong white teeth, as if in a smile.

“I'll wash it! And a dog, and a bath!” Yura rejoiced, considering that the matter had already been decided. Manya is the best sister in the world! But before he could say it out loud, she flashed her eyes and suddenly smiled maliciously.

“All right, dear brother, I'll keep this monster for myself. If you need help in the investigation of the century! But only in exchange for…”

“Whatever you want!” Yura rashly promised. “I'm even ready to buy food for this dog and pay for a veterinarian! And I'll pay for Volkov's classes, too.”

“No, I'm able to pay for all this myself. And you'll need the money…” Manya grinned, and Yura frowned. Such a smirk of the sister didn’t bode well. He expected that she would demand some expensive gift or ask him to pick up the dog during her trips, but what Manya requested made Yura recoil and press his shoulder blades into the wall again.

“You should get married! Until the end of this year! That's it!” The insidious sister proclaimed with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

“What?!”

“Get married! Until the end of the year,” Manya repeated patiently and, noticing that the dog had laid down on the light carpet again, didn’t chase him away. “You are almost thirty years old, and childhood in your curly head is walking like the wind! This trick with the dog is the last! Get married and finally come to your senses! That's it! I put forward my condition. I don’t agree, take your ‘gift’ and take it yourself wherever you want.”

“Manya… You're asking too much!”

“No, brother! Not much! To settle this hulk here is another sacrifice on my part! It's necessary to walk with a dog, feed it, take it to classes, and sweep the wool. It's such a responsibility! I agree to take it on myself in exchange for you coming to your senses and settling down! Now, dear brother, I'm not going to take care of you, but about this monster!

“Who should I marry?!

“Oh! It's not a problem for you! On one of your girlfriends, whom you change like cowards!”

“I don't have any girlfriends right now!” Yura tried to talk himself out of it.

But Manya was relentless:

“That's not my problem! Marry at least this Rina, since she's the cause of all the fuss!

Yura even laughed:

“At Rina?! Um... I'm for it! But I will not trample on her oligarch!”

“You yourself wrote an article that the singer left him,” Manya reminded, squinting badly. “Go ahead”

“Rina is missing!”

“Aren't you going to do a sensational investigation and find her?”

“All right, all right! Only Rina is unlikely to agree…”

“And that's your problem, brother! Rina or any other girl – I don't care. If only it was decent! Come on, write a receipt that you undertake to fulfill the promise…”

Manya searched the drawers of the desk for paper and a pen and laid it on the table with a triumphant smile.

“Write!”

“Manya, you're crazy!” Yura panicked.

“Yeah! You've driven me crazy! This louse's house was the last straw,” Manya said, nodding at the dog. “Write or take this street miracle for yourself! And don't hope for my help anymore!”

“Okay, how to write?”

“That's how you write: so-and-so, passport data… I intend to marry a decent girl by the end of this year… Date and signature!

“And how will you determine the degree of her decency?” Yura sneered.

“I'll figure it out!” Manya barked. “Write!”

“I hope you won't force me to sign a contract with blood, devil?”

“I won't make you. Your squiggle is enough.”

“I just sold you my soul, you know?” Yura sighed, handing his sister a piece of paper.

“You sold it when you entered the journalism faculty,” Manya chuckled, carefully putting the ‘receipt’ in a file and locking it in a drawer with documents.

Yura watched with longing how his sister had just locked his freedom in this very box, but immediately reassured himself that there was still a lot of time before the end of the year. He will come up with something or persuade Manya to have mercy. But his sister seemed to read his thoughts:

“And don't hope that you will be able to soften me! If you don’t fulfill your promise, you can no longer hope for my help!”

The new day was met with even greater heat. Nikolai was suspicious of such generous advances of summer in May: would it spend the entire heat limit in a matter of days, would it break out with snow in June and prolonged rains in July? Then they will need a heater instead of an air conditioner. Nikolai turned on the air conditioner, mentally thanking Vika and the master for their prompt work, and went to the window. If not for the huge amount of work, he would have taken a day off, gone to nature for a day: to the lake – ‘recharge the batteries’. He had wanted to rest for a long time, because since autumn he had been working almost seven days a week. But now he got involved in a case, because of which he had to abandon several simple orders. Worst of all, this assignment drained him of his strength like a vampire. It was too personal. Too heavy memories were associated with him.

Nikolai glanced at the street, stretched, stretching his back, and after a minute's pause returned to the table and called Vika. She came in, as usual, without knocking.

Vika changed her ‘image’ again: she dyed her short hair and nails blue – to match the tights. Otherwise, she remained true to the dark colors: today Vika chose black loose shorts and a top. Nikolai caught himself thinking that another girl in such a flashy outfit would look vulgar, but Vika – stylish. Only when did she have time to repaint her hair and nails, if they worked until night the day before? Nikolai didn't get enough sleep, he was going to work in a hurry, so he came to the office not in a suit, but in black jeans and a dark green short-sleeve shirt. However, in the afternoon he was going on trips, and such clothes were more convenient.

“You look great,” Vika paid him a duty compliment.

“You too.”

‘I noticed, I noticed your new color,’ he replied with a laughing look at her questioning. Vika smiled contentedly and sat down at the table opposite him. And Nikolai suddenly thought that he had never noticed that she wore colored eye lenses because the attention was attracted by bright hair and long legs in the notorious tights. And only today, when Vika chose the blue color, he saw that her lenses were also a heavenly shade.

“Chief, ow?” Vika called out, because the pause dragged on.

Nikolai blinked and laughed it off:

“Every time I need time to get used to your new image. Vik, put a schedule of flowers and their change dates on the wall!”

“I'll think about it,” she suddenly answered seriously and spread out the printouts on the table.

“What do we have there?” Nikolai also focused on his work.

“I compared, as you asked, the old cases in our and Korean cities. You're right, there are a lot of coincidences. Everything went according to the same scenario: the reduction of daylight hours, the death of livestock, the shallowing of reservoirs, then the gradual disappearance of people.

“I see,” Nikolai muttered, glancing through the sheets. Then he unfolded a map on the table, marked the coordinates on it, connected three points with lines and measured the distance between the settlements.

“Is there anything for other countries?”

Vika rustled her notebook pages.

“I've been monitoring the news, as you asked. In Korean, Russian and a little English. Nothing, Kolya. But I'll look again in Europe.”

“And we have for the last two years?”

“We have nothing yet, except for the case that Gennadiy Sergeevich said. But it is still difficult to say whether everything repeats or not. Maybe it's a coincidence.”

“Great. So far we have had three cases in the past with a time interval of several months. And perhaps one in the present. If cyclicity takes place and everything really repeats, then it's worth waiting for more. You follow the news.”

“Okay”

He finally looked up at her from the papers and after a short pause said:

“I'm leaving today. I'll go back to my hometown. Before we study a new place, we need to go back, so to speak, to the roots. I'll check how true the rumors are that someone began to appear there.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Looters? Or fans of ‘abandoned’?” Vika asked.

Nikolai hesitated with the answer. What should he say to her? The version he was going to test would have seemed too implausible to anyone. But Vika asked something else:

“Can I come with you? Or should I stay in the office?”

Nikolai wanted to ask the assistant to contact the administration of the region by phone, where the second case occurred almost twenty years ago, but he saw a request in her eyes. Apparently, she also got tired of sneezing from dust over archival documents.

“Okay, let's go,” he smiled. “But I don’t know when we will be back. Perhaps by nightfall again. The one-way trip will take two hours. And I still have to go to a friend's house.”

“I have no plans for the evening,” Vika answered readily.

Nikolai held her gaze and suddenly thought that it was strange for a young beautiful girl to spend so much time at work. Okay, him. But she?

“Today I am absolutely free. But for tomorrow, dear chief, I have plans,” Vika was ahead of him, as if reading his thoughts.

“A date?” he blurted out.

She grinned and suddenly nodded.

“Some kind of it.”

“Oh, finally!” he exclaimed, making a deliberately surprised face. “I was already beginning to suspect that work replaces your personal life.”

“Don't even hope,” Vika snapped, slammed the notebook shut and got up. But she stopped at the door and looked back. “What time do we leave?”

“I would at least now, but I'm waiting for a client. Gennadiy Sergeevich called, and said that a person would come from him. I don't know what time. I would refuse the meeting – it's not up to that now, but Gennadiy asked! Perhaps this person is related to our case and will bring more documents.”

“All right,” Vika nodded. “I'll be there, I won't even leave for a break.”

When she closed the door behind her, Nikolai scanned the printouts again, then flipped through the notebook and compared his own notes with those made by Vika. And then he picked up the phone and found the right number.

“Hi, Jaguar,” he grinned into the phone when he heard the greeting. “Yeah, me again and again on business. Although it would have been necessary to meet for a long time just like that, to talk for life, drink beer, watch football at the bar. But it's a job, just like yours.”

They exchanged a few obligatory questions and answers, and then Nikolai made a request, for which he called:

“I want to ask you for equipment. For the evening.”

“What exactly is needed?” Lev asked matter-of-factly, and when Nikolai listed it, he clarified: “Should I give you someone? Or can you handle it yourself?”

“I can handle it. My assistant is a very intelligent girl. Well, you know, it's not always possible to attract someone else. Even if it's about your guys.”

“Okay,” Lev reported and said that he would be waiting at home.

Nikolai put down his mobile phone and looked up at Vika, who looked into the office.

“Nikolai, visitors from Gennadiy Sergeevich”

He personally went to the reception and instead of the expected one client saw a whole family. Apparently, the surprise was reflected on his face too clearly, because Vika slightly shook her head. No, of course, married couples and mothers with children came to them, but Nikolai managed to tune in to the fact that a lawyer would come from his boss, who would bring the documents. Visitors also felt uncomfortable: a young woman in a dress that fit her slender figure well cast an inquiring glance at her husband and gently pulled one of the twin girls when she curiously reached for Vika's keyboard.

“Hello! I am Nikolai Melnik,” he smiled affably and extended his hand to the man to greet him. The man's grip was firm and resolute.

“Vsevolod Volkov. And this is my wife Violet and our daughters. Sorry, the whole family came. At the last moment, it turned out that there was no one to leave the girls with.”

“It's okay!” Vika hurried to help with a smile. “These charming princesses will stay with me.”

One of the twins cast a mocking glance at Vika and with irritation pulled down her airy dress with a flounce, protesting both against the ‘princess’ and the uncomfortable outfit. The other girl looked at Vika's blue hedgehog with fascination, and then, emboldened, stretched out her hand and touched her tights.

“Marfa,” the girl's mother was confused.

“It’s okay,” Vika laughed, seemingly charmed by the young beauties.

The girls took after their father in the color of their eyes, their mother's hair color and her features were guessed in their doll faces. Nikolai involuntarily noted that this family is very beautiful and bright. Vsevolod is tall, the same height as Nikolai, his wife is red–haired, with delicate features and huge aquamarine eyes. The twins inherited the beauty of both parents at the same time.

“We're going to draw now! I have a lot of colorings in my computer,” Vika winked at the girls. “And a whole box of pens, markers and pencils!”

“I want such blue hair!” said one of the twins, the one who did not take her fascinated eyes off Vika.

Nikolai hid a smile, noticing the obvious embarrassment on Violet's face.

“I want the ones like yours!” Vika replied. “Your color is much more beautiful than mine! You know, in fairy tales, princesses usually have golden hair. And with blue ones like mine - evil witches!”

“Are you a witch?” the girl asked, but her sister answered her:

“No! She's a Vaporeon! Don't you see?”

Vika raised her eyebrows in surprise.

And the girl seriously repeated:

“Vaporeon! It's a Pokemon. So old and you don't know!”

“Marta!” Vsevolod already reproached his daughter, but Vika laughed:

“No, Pokemon, so Pokemon!”

“Marta really likes Pokemons,” Violet explained, smiling shyly.

“And I love dragons! I don't like princesses!” Marta interjected.

“Okay, we will paint Pokemon and dragons,” agreed Vika and turned to the parents of the twins: “The girls are just lovely.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” grinned Vsevolod. “After a quarter of an hour of communication with them, you will ask for mercy.”

“So you have a quarter of an hour to talk about your case,” Vika said deftly.

“Don't worry, the girls will be fine,” Nikolai said, inviting the guests to his place.

“I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about your assistant,” Violet laughed, following him in.

“It's hot,” Nikolai began the conversation to win over the visitors. “Turn on the air conditioner? Vika can bring drinks. What do you want?”

But the guests refused both air conditioning and drinks. Violet looked up at her husband, nodded slightly to him, and Vsevolod immediately got down to business:

“We have lost a loved one. A girl.”

“Who is she to you?” Nikolai clarified and opened his notebook.

“A friend. It so happened that she had no relatives left, so we - friends - became the closest to her. Of course, we told the police. But Gennadiy Sergeevich advised me to contact you. Especially since it's a delicate matter.”

Nikolai made an interested and at the same time sympathetic look, trying not to betray the annoyance he experienced. He has absolutely no time, energy and resources to search for some girl. It's strange that his boss forgot about it. And if the police and, for sure, volunteers joined the search, what should he do?

“And what is the delicacy?” He asked with deliberate politeness and, catching Violet’s serious look, realized that she didn’t buy his sympathetic tone.

“Rina is a famous singer, and also the fiancee of Dimitri Lebedev. Her disappearance was kept secret for some time, but now all the media have trumpeted it,” Violet said and unconsciously, in search of support, squeezed her husband's hand.

“Journalists came to our house. But we sent them with nothing,” Vsevolod added and covered his wife's hand with his other palm.

“Rina…” muttered Nikolai.. “So you want me to look for her?”

“Yes,” the couple said at the same time with equal firmness. Nikolai paused, considering the answer. Most of all, he was interested in what connects Gennadiy Sergeevich and this family, and is there any... trap here? But he didn't ask directly.

“So, Rina. A popular singer,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Vika is her fan and was going to a concert, but it was canceled.”

“Exactly. All concerts are canceled. Fans were offered to hand over tickets rather than exchange them for other dates. Do you understand? And Rina paid all the penalties out of her own pocket.”

“And how do you know about this?” Nikolai seized on Vsevolod's last phrase. “Did Rina call you after her disappearance? Or did she give some hints?”

“No. I found out from her producer. Not that we were close acquaintances, but we saw each other. Naturally, after the disappearance of Rina, I contacted whomever I could. And they contacted me too. The producer is also alarmed by her disappearance.”

“Well,” Nikolai sighed. “Tell me everything you know.”

Little was known toVolkov. The last time they saw a friend was two weeks before her disappearance, and then Rina seemed happy. She was discussing with friends her upcoming wedding with Dimitri and his wedding gift – a concert tour of Europe and Asia.

Nikolai made a note to find out when Rina transferred money to the concert organizers – how many days passed after this dinner with friends, at which no one noticed anything strange.

“Rina really wanted to go to Korea,” Violet continued, pulling a strand of dark wavy hair behind her ear. “A close friend of hers comes from there. Rina was brought up in an orphanage. Then she was still called Vita. She changed her name, moving to the capital and starting a career as a singer.”

“Is Rina a stage name?”

“Not only that. Now her name is Ekaterina Sokolovsky on her passport. But she is known to fans simply by her name.”

“Okay,” Nikolai nodded, making a new note, and asked Violet to continue. She said that in the orphanage where Rina was brought up, there was a cleaner named Nuliya, who was brought to the USSR as a child.

“For Rina, Nuliya was like her own grandmother. She also taught Korean and songs from her homeland.”

“Do you have any of this woman's contacts?” Nikolai asked, but shook her head.

“No. I don't know how the news of Rina’s disappearance will affect her…”

Nikolai wrote down the address of the orphanage, deciding that he needed to call there and find out Nǔlǐyà's contacts: it is possible that Rina took refuge with her. He also marked the name of the Korean band, with the soloist of which Rina, according to Violet, was familiar and planned to work together: she would give Vika a task to write to this musician. Maybe he knows something.

“Why are you looking for her, and not her fiance?” Nikolai asked, looking from Violet to Vsevolod. “By the way, do you know him personally?”

“We know each other,” Vsevolod replied. “Rina introduced us at the very beginning of their relationship. Then we crossed paths twice at events to which she invited us. And once they came together to inform us about the upcoming wedding.”

“And how did Dimitri seem to you?”

“How-how…” Vsevolod shrugged his shoulders. “A normal guy. Only very busy. Both of his phones rang incessantly. But it was obvious that he was in love with Rina. I think Dimitri is also looking for her through his channels. He and I aren’t close enough to exchange phones. But he had Violet's number from somewhere. She got a call from a hidden number, connected with Dimitri. And he asked in detail what we know about the disappearance of Rina.

“Did it seem to you that he was offended? His fiance left him.”

Vsevolod shrugged his shoulders again and squinted at his wife. Violet was sitting with her back straight, as if stretched, her palms folded on her knees, and nervously biting her lower lip. Is she worried about the loss of her friend or do the questions for some reason seem uncomfortable to her?

“More like he was worried,” she replied. “The conversation was short, Dimitri asked questions. I told him everything I knew. He didn't call back again.”

Nikolai asked a few more questions about the relationship between Rina and Lebedev, addressing Violet, because who, if not women, are better informed about the affairs of their friends' hearts. He asked about Rina's habits and everything that could help in the search in one way or another. However, the more he listened to Violet and Vsevolod, the less he wanted to take up this case. And not only because he had more important things to do now, but because a popular singer and the former fiancee of a famous businessman was missing. And Nikolai doesn’t need any publicity, nor the difficulties that Lebedev's people could cause. Does Gennadiy Sergeevich really not understand this?

“Is this all that is known about Rina?” He summed it up. “Maybe you remembered something else?”

The couple looked at each other, and Violet's lips twitched, as if she was going to say something, but Vsevolod barely shook his head.

“No. That's all.”

Nikolai paused in the hope that Volkov would change their minds, but Vsevolod looked at him with such a direct look that Nikolai eventually nodded.

“Okay. But if you remember anything, call me.”

He saw the visitors off and returned to the office. Vika followed him with a tray in her hands. The astute assistant even without asking brought him a glass of cool water, a cup of coffee and a saucer of cookies. Nikolai nodded his thanks and reached for a glass of water. Vika didn’t leave, patiently waiting for him to speak.

“These were close friends of the missing singer, to whom you didn’t get to the concert.”

“What?!” the assistant was amazed and broke into a smile. “So we're going to look for her?”

“Wait, wait, Vika,” Nikolai grimaced and massaged his temples with his palms. “First our business. And then I'll decide what to do. First, Google the Korean group… What's its name?”

He looked at the piece of paper.

“yuri goyangi” Vika read. “‘Glass cat in our language.”

“Yeah. Find this glass cat, or rather, its soloist and write to him. Rina was planning some kind of project with him. It seems that the fiance was going to arrange for her to tour Asia and Europe. In general, maybe this musician knows something?”

“Sure!” Vika was delighted.

“And also call this orphanage and find out the contacts of a certain Nuliya. She worked there as a cleaner. Just don't say anything about Rina yet, and if Nuliya is called to the phone, say that you will call back later. I'll talk to her myself.”

“All right,” Vika nodded. “Anything else?”

“What else? We're leaving in ten minutes. You will complete these tasks later.”

Before the trip, they had lunch at a familiar restaurant near the office. Vika, referring to the fact that she was not used to eating enough on the road, pecked at a salad of fresh vegetables, although she usually didn’t deny herself a hearty lunch, and washed down everything with black tea. Nikolai, knowing that the path ahead is not close, on the contrary, turned up a good chop with a side dish.

They had to make a detour to go to the cottage village to the Jaguar. Nikolai stopped the car in front of a two-story house and looked questioningly at Vika.

“I'll wait in the car,” she correctly understood him, took out her mobile and opened some apps.

Lev heard the noise of a car approaching and went out to meet the guest in the courtyard. They shook hands, and then, at the same time grinning at this ‘officialdom’, they embraced bluntly, after which Jaguar invited Nikolai into the house.

“I can't stay too long, Lev. The road is long, but I want to return today.”

“Oh, Yana is cooking dinner for us,” the owner became sad.

“I didn't know, and my assistant and I have already had lunch,” Nikolai spread his hands regretfully.

“Well, at least come and say hello to Yana.”

“This is of course!”

They crossed a well-kept courtyard with flower beds along a stone-paved path, but stopped near the porch.

“I've collected everything you asked for. Give it back when you can.”

“I'll bring it tomorrow, Lev.”

“Then maybe in the morning,” Jaguar grinned. “Yana and I are flying to South Korea tomorrow for a few days. You called in time.”

“To Korea?” Nikolai started up. Korea again. That's so lucky that Lev is flying there!

“Yes. Yana has a scheduled checkup in Seoul. She feels well, but every couple of years you need to fly to the doctor.”

Nikolai already knew that Lev's wife had a serious illness, but after the operation in Korea, the disease receded. Yana now led a normal lifestyle, practiced yoga and wrote historical novels, which were published in a major publishing house.

“It will take us only a day to inspect, but we decided to take the opportunity to relax. Do you need something from Korea? Kimchi? Tteok?”

“It is necessary,” Nikolai didn’t shirk. “But not food. I'm interested in one village.?

“If it’s near Bukchon Hanok Village, then we can go there,” Lev nodded.

“It’s so near,” Nikolai rejoiced. “I'll email you what I need. Okay?”

“No problem!”

“Very helpful!”

“I understand,” Lev grinned and with a sly squint asked: “How are things in your... detective agency?”

“Not bad. Just like in your... security,” Nikolai answered in the same tone, with the same sly smile.

“It pleases. But be careful,” Lev added seriously and opened the front door.

Yana, of course, was upset that the guest wouldn’t stay for lunch, but, accustomed to the fact that her husband isn’t always free to manage his time, offered:

“I'll wrap up some pies for you on the road! I just took it out of the oven. With green onions and egg, and also with cabbage!”

Nikolai didn’t refuse the pies, and Yana ran off to the kitchen to collect goodies.

“Here, everything you need is here,” Lev said, handing him a heavy sports bag.

“I will cherish it like the apple of my eye!” Nikolai promised, but the owner laughed:

“Eyes are more important than this rubbish. So better take care of the apple of your eye! If you don't figure it out, call me. I'm in touch.”

Nikolai wanted to answer that he would try to figure it out himself, but at that time Yana came out of the kitchen with a voluminous bundle in her hands.

“I hope the pies turned out delicious. It was only the second time I baked,” she explained, a little embarrassed. A smile touched her lips, and Nikolai thought for the umpteenth time that Jaguar had a very beautiful wife: with cute features, with white skin like a porcelain doll and reddish curly hair. Yana was so gentle that she wanted to be immediately taken under protection, and against the background of the tall Lev, she seemed especially fragile. Jaguar, as if reading Nikolai's thoughts, hugged his wife, and Yana, clinging to his strong shoulder, smiled – like a farewell to the guest, but in fact – to her happiness. ‘Be careful’, is out of place, or maybe just right, Nikolai remembered the warning of the more experienced and older Lev. After getting married, Jaguar became more vulnerable, because now, in addition to his grown-up daughter from his first marriage, he had Yana. And in his words, Nikolai heard not so much a request to take care of himself, as a warning to avoid such ‘weaknesses’.

He's careful. Still, how careful. That's why he decided to live without affection.

Carrying a heavy bag in one hand and a bundle of pies in the other, Nikolai returned to the car and opened the back door.

“I don't know where…” he heard the voice of the assistant talking on the phone. Nikolai carefully put the bag with the equipment on the floor, and put the package with the pies on the seat. Vika heard the noise and quickly curtailed the conversation:

“I'll call you later!”

Without saying goodbye to the interlocutor, she put the phone in her purse.

“Well, that's it, we can go!” Nikolai said cheerfully. Vika glanced at him, and something like concern flashed in her eyes. But she immediately smiled and said cheerfully:

“Let's go, chief.”