Roderick could not sleep, he was constantly tossing and turning in the bed from one side to the other. He was alternately stifled, cold, and sometimes roused by a thunderclap, and it seemed that this night could not have been any worse. Every half hour, he managed to fall asleep for ten minutes, during which he had one disturbing dream, like a small and gloomy performance in a forgotten shadow theater. At one point, Roderick lost track of time and just lay there, looking up at his suspended ceiling.

Another hour passed, and after giving up his futile attempts to sleep, Roderick got out of bed, went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, took a couple of sips, and put the glass back in its place. He went to the windowsill, leaned on it with both hands, and looked out at the view. It was raining hard, and the city was bleached to gray, with only a faint tinge of yellow streetlights. The world fell into a deep, primal sleep. Roderick sighed, and his eyes began to close again, but when he opened them, he saw a strange dark figure on the road, dragging something that looked like a man, dead and lifeless. Suddenly the figure stopped and looked straight at him, and a second later it quickened its pace, coming closer and closer to his house.

"Damn it, I keep telling myself it can't get any worse, and it's only getting worse."

Roderick heard a knock on the door, but he didn't move. The knocking grew louder – Roderick was still sitting in the kitchen, hoping that sooner or later the man would get bored and go his own way, but alas, this did not happen. Roderick went into the living room and took out the only weapon he had at the time, a hand dynamite, from the nightstand. Then he picked up the lighter and stood in front of the front door.

"Roderick, open the door, I saw you!" A familiar voice shouted, but he couldn't remember who it was.

"Go away! Leave me alone, I didn't see your face!" he shouted back.

"Roderick, for God's sake, open it."

"Who's that?"

"Ofir."

"Ofir?"

"Yes. Open the fucking door before anyone sees me."

Roderick placed the dynamite and lighter on the shoe rack and began to move slowly forward, shifting his feet on the floor as if he were skiing. He took the key from the hanger, inserted it in the lock, and half-opened the door. Ofir was standing before him, all wet and frightened. Roderick lowered his gaze to see who the intruder was dragging and saw the Inquisitor. His eyes widened in horror, his breath caught in his throat, and he automatically, guided by an instinct of self-preservation, tried to close the door in Ofir's face, but he put his foot up just in time. Roderick would not let up, he tried to close the door, pushing it with all his strength, which he did not have much of.

"Roderick, are you crazy?" Ofir said, trying to get inside at the same time.

"Go away, go away, go away," Roderick kept saying, like an ancient zagоvor, but Ofir didn't even think of leaving.

After a minute, Ofir was able to win the contest of strength and defeat the old man. Roderick gave up. Ofir went into the apartment, tossed the inquisitor's body on the hallway floor like a sack of potatoes, and closed the door behind him.

"It can't get any worse now," Roderick said in a whisper.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Who is this?"

"An Inquisitor."

"I see that he isn't a wandering bard. What the hell happened to him?"

"Guillotine killed him."

"How did he kill him?"

"Hit him on the head, well, and the sanctimonious fell like a brick from a tower. Smashed his head. And that's it, he died."

Roderick fell on the carpet on the floor and could not speak. Ofir, in turn, asked him to help him to hide before his friends arrived, said that he would leave early in the morning and pay well. Roderick crossed himself, looked at the body of the inquisitor once more, and asked himself where he had sinned so much that the Almighty had sent him these four madmen.

Ofir, seeing the condition in which the old man was, walked around Roderick, went to the kitchen, poured water into a glass, returned to the corridor and poured it over him. The old man immediately got up and was about to shout when Ofir put his index finger to his lips and shook his head from left to right.

"You'll wake the neighbors."

Roderick said quietly that they couldn't just leave the inquisitor's body on his doorstep and said that the inquisitor should be taken away and offered to throw the body in a secret closet in his parlor-workshop.

“Follow me.”

Ofir took the inquisitor and dragged him across the floor, first to the living room and then to Roderick's private workshop. There, tormented and tired, the owner of the house went to the wall, pressed a strange barely noticeable button and a bed rolled out of the wall.

"What are you standing on, put him where the bed was."

Ofir nodded, and within a minute the inquisitor was sealed in the wall.

"You're not that simple, Roderick."

He turned, looked at Ofir from under his brows, and said:

"Would you like some tea?"

"Of course."

They went into the kitchen, Ofir sat down at the table, and Roderick began to make tea.

"Do you want black or green?" he asked.

"Green."

They sat there until morning. The gray, gloomy atmosphere of the city began to clear in the light of the blue sky. Roderick was very sleepy and drank one strong black tea after another. Ofir sat on a chair and looked out of the window. A few more hours passed, and the sun rose from behind the high walls that enclosed Agernox. There was a knock. They exchanged glances, and Roderick and Ofir walked to the front door. Roderick opened the door, saw no one, only horse-drawn carts passing on the wet, muddy road, and a few local early risers walking along the edges of the houses toward the warehouse street.

"I could have sworn I heard a knock at the door," Roderick said.

"I can swear to the same thing," Ofir replied.

They closed the door and heard the knock again, faint and hollow. Roderick opened the door again, stepped outside, and looked around.

"Maybe someone's knocking on the door next door." Ofir asked.

Roderick turned and paused for three seconds, then said, "No."

They went back inside, but the knocking didn't stop. Then it dawned on Roderick, and he ran down the hall without explaining anything, turned into the living room, and from there into the private workshop, Ofir not far behind and running after him. In the office, they heard a puppy moan, followed by several more blows on the wall. Roderick turned his trembling head towards Ofir and said:

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"You told me he was dead."

Ofir was even more frightened, not knowing what to do next.

"I was sure he was."

"Did you idiots check his pulse?"

"No."

"Did you check if he was breathing or not?"

"We didn't do anything, Roderick, what the fuck do you want from me?"

"You brought a stunned inquisitor to my house and you're asking me why the fuck do I want from you? God, he's at my house, what are we going to do?"

"How do I know?"

Roderick paused and thought that things could always get worse.

"Where are your friends?"

"I don't know, they should have come a long time ago."

"But they didn't come."

"I can see for myself that they didn't come. Roderick, are we playing ten obvious facts or what?"

"You brought the Inquisitor to me; you deal with him."

Roderick spun around, pushed Ofir aside as hard as he could, and ran out of the parlor, slamming the door behind him. Ofir slammed his shoulder into the already closed door with all his might, but it had no effect other than dislocating.

"Open the door, bitch!"

"I won't open it until you've dealt with the Inquisitor."

"Then I'll beat the fuck out of it!"

"Try your best, son. My parlor is made of the same material that they use to build bunkers in case of an apocalypse."

Ofir tried several more times to break down the door, but to no avail. Then he started running around the parlor and ruining everything in anger. Roderick, standing in the living room, heard everything, he was sorry for his things, but he was sorrier for himself. As Ofir tried to figure out what to do next, Roderick remembered his only defensive tool. He returned to the corridor, took a dynamite and a lighter from the shoe rack, and decided that he would blow up Ofir and the Inquisitor inside. The walls of the makeshift bunker are strong enough to contain the blast wave. And then he would run away from the city, as fast as he could, before Egon, Guillotine, and Homer came to him.

Ofir tore a wooden leg off the table, went to the wall, and pressed a button, ready to beat the inquisitor, this time to death. The secret doors in the wall opened and the inquisitor, exhausted and weakened, fell straight onto the bed. The mechanism that pushed the sleeping berth into the wall came into action and brought the inquisitor back, now pinned between the bed and the wall. He cursed and whined. Ofir pressed the button again, and the secret doors in the wall opened, and the bed slid forward, and so did the Inquisitor. Before he knew what was happening, he received a blunt blow to the head and lost consciousness again.

Ofir was about to finish off the enemy, but in his mind, like a deadly and blinding lightning, flashed childhood memories. All his youth he had been beaten by his father, and he could not remember a single day when he had gone out without bruises and abrasions. The mother left the family immediately after giving birth, leaving the unwanted son to the guardianship of her man (Ofir still does not understand who they were to each other). Somewhere in one of those stretches of gray and colorless life, he met Egon for the first time. He was a strange, but very kind boy, easy to talk to and attentive to details. After they had wandered through the streets of Agernox together, telling each other about their lives, Egon asked who was beating him, and Ofir replied that it was his father. When Egon heard this, he took a club and asked to see where his new friend lived, and Ofir did so. When the father opened the door, Egon without words and preludes hit him in the face, the man, stunned by the blow, fell and did not move, he never touched his son again, and a few years later died. Egon dropped his club, turned, and said to Ofir, «I don't like when the weak and innocent are beaten up, promise me that you won't become like him» And Ofir made his first vow.

And here he stands with his head bowed over his enemy - short and thin, feeling like that small and inexperienced young man who never fully grew up. Ofir unclenched his fingers, and the table leg fell to the floor. He said:

"You were just doing what you were told, weren't you?"

While Ofir stood lost in thought, Roderick quietly opened the door, lit the fuse of the dynamite, and threw it inside. Ofir turned and saw a dynamite next to him, immediately looked around, rushed to it, picked up a pair of scissors on the way from the floor and cut off the fuse at the very last moment. Roderick stood by the door, his ears flattened against his palms, waiting for the explosion, but nothing happened. Then he heard Ofir's voice:

"Next time you want to blow someone up, throw a dynamite when the fuse is about to burn out."

Roderick ran out of the house, opened the door, and saw Homer and Guillotine standing in front of him, sleepy and exhausted.

"Where are you going, old man?" Guillotine asked.

"Nowhere," he said.

"Then why did you open the door that abruptly, then? We haven't even had time to knock yet, so out of breath."

"Let me pass, Ofir is in the parlor, waiting for you, and I need to... er ... meet with the client."

"With the client, right?"

"Yes."

"You're not going anywhere until we see our friend, you, smart-ass old stump."

Guillotine pushed Roderick back into the house and told him to show him where Ofir and the dead inquisitor were. Roderick tried to run out, pushing his enemies aside, but Guillotine grabbed his arm, twisted it, and said:

"Lead the way, and no tricks."

Homer watched in silence, but he sensed that something was wrong. They walked through the living room and stood in front of the parlor door.

"He's in there," Roderick said, and thought it was getting worse again.

"Ofir!" Homer shouted.

"I'm here," he called back.

"Open the door," said Guillotine.

Roderick opened the door. The room was in chaos. All the tables and chairs were destroyed, the inquisitor's body is lying on the bed, there was a dynamite on the floor right at Ofir's feet, as well as different gems scattered here and there and broken tools to evaluate them.

"What happened here?" Homer asked.

"That bastard locked me in the room with an inquisitor and tried to blow us both up with this!" Ofir pointed at the dynamite.

"He brought a battered inquisitor to my apartment! What was I supposed to do?"

"He brought a dead inquisitor to your apartment," Guillotine said, and hit Roderick on the back of the head, knocking him out and falling to the floor.

Ofir looked at Guillotine and said:

"The Inquisitor is alive."

"Alive?" asked Homer.

"Stop asking me again. I knocked him out again."

"Okay, let me finish him off, are there any knives, swords, or anything else?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the kitchen knife should be... " said Ofir.

"We're not going to kill anyone!" Homer shouted.

"What do you mean, we won't?" Guillotine asked. "He saw our faces."

"We are not killers, Guillotine!"

"He saw all three of us."

"He may not remember our faces."

"I wouldn't check it out. Ofir, why didn't you finish him off?"

"I couldn't... he doesn't deserve to die."

"I think Ofir is right," Homer said.

"The Inquisitor wouldn't have spared you, he kind of wanted to kill you all."

"We won't kill him."

"I don't think so."

"Let's wait for Egon and make this decision together."

"I don't want to wait for anyone. Do you guys have a screw lose in your heads? It's either him or us. There is no third option."

Homer took a gold coin out of his pocket and said:

"Let the coin decide."

Guillotine and Ofir looked at Homer, then looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

"Then it's settled. Tails – he dies, heads – he lives."

Homer tossed the gold coin. The coin flew up, spinning in the air like a levitron, and fell to the floor. They looked at the result.

"I suggest to make a best-of-three."

"No," said Homer and Ofir at the same time.

"Fuck."

"We'll tie up the inquisitor and turn off the lights here, just in case."

"What about Roderick?"

"Let him come to his senses and go on his way. Let's forgive him," Homer said.

"He almost fucking killed me!" shouted Ofir "Fuck him! We'll tie him up here with the Inquisitor."

The friends tied up the prisoners and put them near the wall.

"Let's leave them at least two glasses of water," Homer said. "I'll get it."

After Homer placed two glasses of spring water in front of Roderick and the Inquisitor, they extinguished all the candles around the perimeter and locked the parlor.

"How will they see the glasses of water? You can't see a shit there," Ofir said.

"That's their problem," Guillotine said.

"All right, let's go to the warehouse and wait for Egon."

They left the house and locked the door with the key Roderick had left in the hall. Outside, the weather was cloudless. The blinding sun was at its zenith. They moved along the road, avoiding puddles and holes, talking about something else once again. A few minutes later, they came to the "workers' street", which consists entirely of warehouses. A few hundred meters from warehouse number forty-three, they saw the familiar face of a policeman.

"Grayson?" Guillotine said in surprise, stopping his boring monologue about life and death, which no one really listened to.

"Shouldn’t he think we're out of town?"

"He must think."

They approached the policeman, who noticed them and waved.

"Grayson, what the fuck are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to think that we're already out of town?"

"I thought so, until I found out something."

"Found out what?"

"What made me wait for you here."

"So, you were sure we'd come here."

"Rather, I assumed with a high degree of probability."

"Be specific, Grayson!"

"Your friends Egon and Metyr have been caught."

"The Inquisitors?"

"Not really."

"It's the police. We need to get them out before the Inquisitors get to them, let's go!" Ofir said.

"No, man, it's not the police. They were caught personally by Thomas, the head of the Inquisition. The most violent and crazy of them all. And if Thomas catches someone, they don't live long."

"Where are they keeping them?"

"In the torture chambers of the forbidden city."

They three, as one, turned around and ran to save their friend.

***

He opened his eyes and saw blackness. He tried to stand up, but the tight ropes would not let him move.

"Damn it," Roderick said. "That's where it could get worse."

A few minutes later, he heard a familiar lowing sound nearby, and it was the Inquisitor. Roderick shuddered with fear, and tried to crawl away from him on the floor, somewhere along the wall, but the rope binding his hands was one with the rope on the inquisitor's hands, and he dragged the poor man along the floor with him. The inquisitor immediately woke up and started screaming and kicking. And Roderick, having lost all hope, calmed down and said to himself: «I won't say that phrase again. Never. »