* * *

Opening my eyes in the Heart of the Temple and feeling the slight chill of the marble wall on my back, the first thing I did was instinctively reach for my neck with my hands.

Uph-ph-ph...

Everything is in place. In my head, I knew it couldn't have been any other way since I woke up here, but I was still relieved. My memories of the last seconds were... unpleasant, to say the least. No, the death itself was surprisingly painless, but that fact did not make it much easier. Dying... No, I knew now it was not an experience I wanted to repeat. No... and I'd done it myself, and I had no one to blame. Iphito had made it very clear that Wolf was her opponent, and to enter the fray as a third party would be a mortal insult. Well... Yeah... who am I to blame for not taking Amazon's "He's only mine!" seriously? Ugh... Myself first. But with all this realization of my mistake, some irrational anger grows within me towards Ifito... at Illea.

As I try to sort myself out, the bikers and the chief regain consciousness nearby. There's something about their faces that doesn't seem happy. I know from my senses, which are not deceptive. We have Execut the Qest and been Heard, so what's wrong with them? It is clear that our task was not the easiest and, to put it mildly, it took a lot of subjective time, but it's over, so why are they so gloomy? I was even killed with "friendly fire" but I don't have such a sour face on my face!

Before I can find the right words for my question, Illea gets to her feet and adjusts her clothes, and turns to the bikers.

"Boys, you go on ahead. I need to talk to Utis. He'll catch up with you later."

The Goons stood silently, glanced at each other, and without saying anything, were the first to go out into the courtyard. Well, we'll have to talk, but Chief is right. We do have a lot to talk about.

When we left the Heart of the Temple, Illea took me under her arm, and we walked leisurely down one of the picturesque alleys of the Temple garden complex. She was silent, and I was in no hurry to be the first to start a conversation.

It was a weird walk. I don't know how to describe what it feels like to walk next to someone who's recently taken your head off. I understand the difference between Illea and Iphito, and I've never equated a man with his Face. I do not have the slightest desire to resemble Ulysses in everything. In general, subjectively for me, all these visits under the Arch are something remotely, as sacrilegious as it sounds, very reminiscent of a game session.

I realize that such thoughts are heretical and definitely not true in their underlying nature, but such comparisons nevertheless do not leave me. For someone else, what happened might have been a reason to reconsider their attitude towards the person or a motive for revenge. But for me, it is nothing more than an unpleasant incident. How many times have I been killed in games? I can't count... Yet, for all the outward similarities, I am aware that there is far from a game going on behind the Arch. That is the duality in my mind. Maybe this duality is the reason why my mind holds no grudge against Illea, but my senses demand that I distance myself from her. Push away...

Our silent walk lasted about five minutes before Illea finally spoke:

"I understand that a simple "I'm sorry" won't be enough." Her voice is calm, but I can feel how hard it is for her to choose her words. "I didn't follow through, and that's my fault. The fact that I asked Iphito to confide in you, or rather Odysseus, caused her to protest vehemently... Eventually, she did agree to play the unstable, drunken fool, but the irritation of the role was building up in her every day..."

Wow, it turns out I wasn't lying to the Goons about Amazon's role. On the one hand, it's funny, but on the other, it shows that my analysis of the situation was wrong, and that's bad, once again I didn't pay enough attention to the details and almost screwed up. Somehow I've been overconfident, too much... And that detail I tartly dislike. Is it Face's influence, or am I changing myself because of what's going on in my life? I don't have an answer to that question. No, my confidence in my own abilities has increased manifold since the first Arch, and training with Lance is understandable.

The question is: where is the line beyond which Odysseus' influence begins? And there is that influence... Why should I have grabbed my sword and galloped into the melee? Was it hard to hit with a bow? Yes... But what was stopping me from reducing the distance to thirty meters and shooting almost at point-blank range? Nothing... But why did I rush into the thick of the battle?! Ulysses, though a top archer, one of the best of his generation, preferred close combat. The occasions on which he picked up a bow during the Trojan War could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

"I feel very good about you." Illea gathered her thoughts, and her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "I do. I like you..." Her intonation made it clear that there was no hint of sexual context in those words. "I could tell you that Iphito cut your head off and I had nothing to do with that... but that would be a lie because she is part of me, the part that I was and probably will be... I'm not Ten, I have trouble finding the right words, and I hope you're not too confused." A nod of my head indicated that I could more or less understand what she was talking about for now.

"To put it bluntly, you got yourself into trouble. Who goes after a designated target?!" There was a touch of irritation in her voice. "On the other hand, I know that the pressure of Face was exerting on you during the fight was too much... It was my fault. I know you were inexperienced, but I could not stop Iph's attack... I honestly did not want to at that moment!" She turned me around and looked me in the eye. "Couldn't you have warned me about the opium? I thought it would be some kind of local, not very strong sleeping pills, and I was hit like a mace on the head!"

"Kleshy was standing behind me..." I excused myself. Good thing she doesn't realize that I didn't even think she was playing a part at all, but that I was darkly using her. If she guessed that twist, I felt I'd be in trouble.

"I know..." She waved her hand and sat down on the parapet, letting go of my elbow. "I could hear her coughing. But... Okay... Believe me, I could justify myself for what I did. Easy... Ask the guys. They'll all say Iph was in the right. But... I still feel guilty. I'm older, more experienced, and I should have been looking out for you, helping you, not..." Illea ran her palm eloquently across her neck. "That's why I'm asking for your forgiveness."

Her look... I can see that my simple "I forgive you" or "forget it, it's okay" won't be enough. She really does blame herself a lot. Part of me demands revenge, but it's such a stupid desire, and once I pay attention to it, it evaporates like a swampy ghost in the light. Revenge on Iphito is like throwing grenades in a small room. And I can't be angry with Illea, that's all. I'm too good to her.

"Would a simple "forget it" be enough?" Still, I ask and see her denial. "How about this, then. You answer one question that really matters to me, and we forget the incident."

"A sort of vira..." She leaps off the parapet, a smile lighting up her face. "I agree. If the question isn't about secrets, I'll answer it straightforwardly."

"Today, before the Arch, you mentioned that you had "made a deal" with your Face. Can you tell me how you did it?"

"You have complicated questions..." Illea rubbed her temples. "On the one hand, the answer is simple. On the other... Okay, since you promised... First of all, I exaggerated a little. The deal is with equals... In my case, it's more about being listened to, and my opinion is sometimes taken into account." She chuckled when she said that. "Second, of course, there is no dialogue in the usual sense between me and Iph. Rather I ask for something, and I just understand whether my request will be taken into account or not."

"This is already many times more than is available to me.' A little different from what I expected, but the good thing is that I didn't mishear it then! So some kind of communication between a human and his Face is possible! "How did you achieve that?"

"That's where it's simple, but it's a false simplicity. You have to perform a feat to be heard by your Face. No..." She waved her hands. "Not what we do behind the Arch. It doesn't matter where in the material world or beyond the Veil. It has to be a deed of yours. A deed in its original sense - overcoming oneself. Only a hero is heard by a Hero. To be Heard, you have to stop being a surrogate for the Hero of old. You must become a hero yourself, albeit with a small letter, not a great one, but a hero." She hesitated, stopped talking, and threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, I've tried, but I can't explain it any clearer."

To ask what feat did she accomplish? No, wrong time and place. She was already on edge, and I basically understood what she was trying to say.

"Thank you, I accept your answer." And holding out my hand, I say. "The past is in the past, isn't it, peace?"

"Peace." She shakes my hand lightly. "I'm going to go for a walk, but you run along and catch up with the boys. They must be waiting... I'll see you tonight." She patted my hair, said that, and with a smile on her face, she nudged me towards the road.

As usual, on a new moon, there were many cars parked outside the Temple, but it was not too difficult to find our minivan. As I opened the car door, I heard the Goons arguing about something, but as soon as they saw me, their argument was instantly silenced.

I took a seat in the back, fastened my seatbelt, and looked around at the bikers more closely. The guys were clearly unhappy about something, and it was especially obvious when they glared at me.

"Why so gloomy? It all seems to have ended well!" After talking to Illea, I'm in a good mood, as if a stone had been lifted from my soul.

"He's taunting..." muttered Anton, starting the car.

"What about him? He got away pretty clean..." Phil grinned when he said that.

"Yes..." Hotey said, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "A zig and a bang..."

I don't understand anything at all.

"Come on, you guys, what's up? I'm the one who got my head cut off, not you!" I looked around at the Goons in bewilderment.

"Didn't... Illea say anything to you?" There was a flicker of doubt in Hot's eyes.

"Didn't say... what?" I really don't understand.

"Didn't she say that after Iphito sliced that fucking Wolf into shreds, nothing was over!" Anton snapped, taking the minivan out onto the highway.

"And..?" As An did not continue, after about half a minute's silence, I spoke up.

"What And." Phil throws a quick glance at me. "An said it right, it's not over..."

I feel the urge to hit them all with something heavy. But before this fleeting urge can develop into something bigger, Hotey, who is sitting next to me, explains.

"We returned only after escorting Vorat to the nearest monastery." How's that? It flashed through my mind. "The wolf, the cult - none of this was our Quest. We just had to find the guy and get him to the right point in one piece. Apparently, we were supposed to be interfered with heavily by the cultists. We ended up slogging through forests and tracts for another week before we got the boy to his destination."

I must say this news was unexpected for me, but I was even more shocked that the Goons seemed to be blaming it on me. If I interpret their views correctly.

"Okay..." I pulled. "You spent another week behind the Veil after the battle with the Wolf. So? What's that got to do with me? I got my head cut off!"

"Oh, yeah..." Phil grinned. "That's what I say, 'got away pretty clean'!"

I don't get it. Are they kidding, or are they serious? Although... I think I get it... It's not the road per se, but the fact that the bikers and Iphito have wasted their only Attribute call on the Wolf and have been feeling out of sorts all week.

"OK..." either way, I'm not happy with the fact that I've been assigned the blame for all the sins. "Let's say I "got away with it", having previously implicated you in a completely unnecessary feat." Seems to have guessed it, that's exactly what they think. "But tell me, how would you have found this Vorat without me in the first place?"

"Аh..." Phil jumped excitedly but then stopped. He remembered that I'd found out about the kid's hiding place. "We'd shake up the town and find it eventually." Still, he claimed.

"No argument there." I don't disagree with that argument of his. "But how long would it have taken? Surely less than the time we spent on the Wolf story? That's one! And two... What if we hadn't had time, and Kleshy and her sect had sacrificed Vorat? Аh?!"

"If only it were..." Phil turns away, muttering under his breath.

"Well. - Anton's voice comes from the driver's seat. "To begin with, if it hadn't been for your 'lucky' Face, we wouldn't have fallen into such a Quest on the new moon!"

"Hey!" This argument is clearly not to Hotey's liking. "An, that's overkill. You can't blame Uthis for anything! We knew who we were going with, and we didn't seem to mind... did we?" The answer was silence. "Exactly... There was nothing to worry about during that week-long trip. I don't get you guys,.Why are you letting all the dogs on Utis? Besides, he's right. Who knows how long we'd be looking for that Vorat by ourselves! And honestly, would anyone really trade a week's journey for a severed head? I certainly wouldn't!"

The argument was about to get heated up again, but then Anton's smartphone started playing a tune, and, driving the car, he pressed the speakerphone button, warning us before doing so:

"Lance..." And when the connection was established, he added. "Yeah, Com, you're on speaker..."

"Hello, lads." I thought there was a touch of concern in the commander's voice. "Tell me, what happened out there?"

"Why such curiosity?" Yes, Lance is the commander and head of the Huns, but still, the questions about the Arch and the Feat are very improper, even on his part, so An is surprised by this question.

"Weren't you going to pray for the lads?"

"Well...Yes..."

"I have a lot of experience..." Lance's chuckle is perfectly audible. "And I know that a 'wellness' prayer made on a new moon, even if it is Granted, will at most remove the effects of injury or illness and speed up the healing process by about half. Again... At most... Now satisfy my curiosity, why are our boys being released today?"

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"Uh..." Apparently, I'm not the only one who's caught off guard by the question, and Anton's confused, too. "Well... We're caught up in a free Search."

"How much?!" The commander's question is sharp and gives away his tension.

"Not much, ten days, roughly" Understanding why Lance was getting nervous, An quickly replies.

"H-h-h-h-h..." The Goon's leader didn't think to hide his exhale of relief. And I see his point because the people he knew might not have come back from the Free Search had we spent a year or more behind the Veil, for example. "Good. But that's not enough to make your prayer Fulfilled that way. No... If you do not wish to speak..."

"Nah, it's all right, Comm." Anton brushes off this tribute of politeness. "Maybe it's just that we've over-performed the Quest, so to speak. All we had to do was find a man and escort him to the right place, and we... And we accidentally got into a fight with the Beast of the Apocalypse, a small local Beast..."

"Ahem." Lance just choked on something. "How did you get that... Accidentally?!"

"So Odysseus..." Anton shrugged as if that explained everything.

"It's fun out there... Waiting at the base, hoping for an interesting story." With these words, Lance ends the conversation.

"Unexpectedly." Stretches the word Phil after the connection breaks down.

"Tartarus... How long have I been walking the Arch?" Hotey scratches his chin. "Ah... I can't remember now. And only now have I found out that the Quest can be multi-layered, and revealing the bonus layer gives power to the prayer..."

"Could this be some kind of an exception?" Phil begins to argue with him.

"The exception or no exception... What difference does it make? The principle itself..." Hot brushed his objections aside.

I don't get involved in their argument. I'm curious to listen. But their argument doesn't last long, as the mobile phone rings again.

"Yes, Ten, you're on speaker," Anton answers the phone.

I see this call took the bikers by surprise as much as it did me. Why would the boss be calling? Is he worried about me? But, even so, why call Anton why not me?

"Howe! Everybody." Daas' voice is a little strained. "How was it? How was Illea... did she do anything wrong... there?"

"Well... Since Rick had been with her before, we were warned. As it turned out, Rick had embellished a lot and left out a few things, but we got through it."

"Was she rowdy?"

"Not that, rather her attitude towards us and her desire to 'play' separately."

"Seems as usual..." There was a hint of doubt in Ten Daas' voice. "Is it strange that she then, judging by the navigator, went for a ride in the mountains? She usually gets in the mood for such rides when she blames herself for something. An, you're not missing anything back there?"

"Well..." I can see Anton smiling ear to ear in the mirror, Phil has a similar look on his face, and Hot's face is about to crack, too. "I'm sure he'll be all right with us, but to Utis she..." And An knows that making jokes with Daas is not the best choice, but he obviously can't resist a theatrical pause.

"What is she?"

"The head... She cut it off... You should have seen the scene! She's like, "whoo-hoo," and his head's like, "whoo-hoo" in the air. It's epic."

"Gaia damn!" The boss growls into the phone. "Can't you just say?! Kronos!!!" And he's off.

The bikers are laughing out loud, but I'm... To be honest, I'm offended. I mean, my boss found out my head was cut off, so what? Did he ask "how am I"? No! He didn't say anything about how I was doing! He was only interested in Illea and why she went to the mountains. That's all... He didn't think about anything else. And his interest... He was obviously very worried. For her. And that excitement wasn't for a valued employee, oh no, far from the tone in his voice. Really? Well, yeah... It all makes sense. And if so, it's understandable that he didn't even think of me. Poor, poor Ten, how unlucky for him... He was lucky to fall in love with a woman with the face of an Amazon, with his face! That's what I call "bad luck!" [1]

What am I smiling at? The man's tragedy is deep and personal, and I'm laughing...

No, it's really funny and irrational, but that doesn't make me any less amused. I'd like to think this is manifested by Face's influence, but I'm aware that it's me who's having fun myself, personally Utis Jirzecz, not the person Blessed by Odysseus.

My guess about Ten's crush on Illea indeed puts a lot of things into perspective. It closes, so to speak, the gaps and "incomprehensibilities" in the boss's behavior that had always puzzled me. A man like Daas allowed too much to the Chief, too much... With his character and Face! This has always puzzled me, and it turns out it's all explained quite simply. I wonder if Illea has an inkling of her boss's feelings, or is she as blind as I have been all this time? You can never be completely sure about this couple. I'm not able to read them like my peers. But if you analyze the behavior of the chief, she doesn't seem to have a clue. On the other hand, it may well be that Daas himself is not aware of the depth of his feelings.

However, one thing I do know is that if I don't want any trouble, I shouldn't get involved in this story. They are adults. They will sort it out themselves. And why should I care? Are they my family, my relatives, or my best friends? They're my bosses. I shouldn't forget that. Yes, I wanted Illea to be my friend, I felt very at ease and warm in her company, and you shouldn't throw something like that away. Except for my neck, which I was drawn to rubbing constantly, added to the skepticism of such a possibility. Her Face is too impulsive. After this Quest, I now have a reasonable doubt that Iphito's influence on the Illea is limited to something more than the will of the Chief. Though... I have to give respect to Illea. She has an iron backbone! I have no idea how I can deal with Ulysses' influence at all not even sure I can trace it, and she was able to negotiate with the far more fierce Face.

One conclusion to be drawn from this reflection is that if I want to be me, I must stay in this job as long as possible! Because without the knowledge that Boss, Chief, and the Goons have, Odysseus will reshape me to his likeness, just as a skilled tailor shapes a material. This leads to the corollary - I should agree to any offer from Daas in the conversation that lies ahead today. Yes, to haggle for appearances. But to keep in mind that I need them, I really do. And I have to mentally thank Iphito, her actions in this negotiation, given Ten's feelings for Illya, solidify my position in the negotiations to come.

You have to think carefully about how to play this card more efficiently. And, very importantly, don't overdo it, because it can have very negative consequences. On the one hand, the way I behaved after receiving the Tear of Thetis scares me quite a bit, I don't want to lose control of my actions again either behind the Arch or, much less, in the material world. On the other hand, my understanding of Ulysses' personality has reached a new level, and many things appear in a different light.

Those who know the story of Odysseus superficially consider him an exalted hero who, unlike other Greats, got his way with cunning, subterfuge, clever talk, and incredible impudence rather than with force. Those who have dug deeper, for those who have understood that the hero Ulysses had another side, from which he appears as a scoundrel, a vindictive scoundrel for whom nothing is sacred. But those who have been able to wade through this layer will realize that Odysseus was first and foremost, a human being. Someone who never wanted to be a hero and who was forced to take the path.

My main rejection of Ulysses had previously been that he could set anyone up, even those who fought shoulder-to-shoulder with him. His own... This trait of this character was unacceptable to me, and the very possibility that my morals would change in this way became a real paranoia for me. But this judgment of mine was partially wrong. The only "own" for Odysseus in the Trojan War were the warriors of Ithaca, and history shows that he fought for them everywhere and always, without regard for any sacrifice on his part. Any sacrifice. He gave up immortality! [2] only to return home and save his team! All the others in that army were no more than forced allies... Except those, he had considered his friends even before the War.

Ulysses was forced to fight on the side of the Achaeans. He was forced to do so by being reminded of the treaty that the kings of Hellas had made at the wedding of Menelaus and Helen. That treaty, which everyone considered an empty formality, for no one could have imagined that anyone would be so crazy as to decide to kidnap another man's wife! A breach of the word by a king in those days automatically made Ithaca an enemy to all the other Achaeans. And even Menelaus, the one Ulysses could call his friend, would have no doubt directed his fleet to Ithaca first, and only after wiping out this small kingdom would he turn his galleys towards Troy.

If you recall, it was Odysseus who did the most to stop the war from happening. He persuaded Menelaus to try and settle things peacefully first. He went with the king of Sparta on an embassy to Troy, hoping to talk sense into the Trojans. And if it had not been for Pandarus' arrow, there might not have been that long siege! [3]

And even when war was inevitable, Ulysses tried to avoid his part in it, pretending to be a common plowman, avoiding as much as he could to meet the Achaean embassy. But he was exposed and essentially forced to fight. Were those who fought beside him "their own" to Ulysses' man? If the speeches that Odysseus spoke, the implicit mockery that oozes from every word of the King of Ithaca towards the other Achaeans, are true, then no, he did not consider them "his own". He did not...

Yes, one can argue a lot about the moral dimensions of Ulysses' actions, but those he considered to be close, those Odysseus never betrayed. But, even this post-Campaign understanding does not make Ulysses a darling or a role model in my eyes. Still, I am sober enough to know that the moral attitudes of the King of Ithaca are very different from mine. And the question is not so much that he was, for example, vengeful - I also do not like to forget insults - but that Odysseus understood insults, and most importantly, he did not know any limits to his vengeance. It is this line, this "measure" that I am afraid of losing.

The last conversation I had with Yol came to mind. Was that why I'd let my hands go? Yes, the facets of the university team captain's personality, his arrogance and unconcealed contempt for whoever he thought would be of no use to him, were certainly annoying. But what would it have cost me if I had just sent him away politely? The result would have been the same - a breakup with the uni team - but no, I wanted to prove him wrong about me being a useless wimp who had been written off.

The main thing here is not to lie to me, not to attribute that action to Face's influence, which I wanted... Yes, previously, I had always preferred to solve conflicts peacefully by talking, but perhaps it was because my physical condition did not allow me to resort to physical violence. But that was before. Now, my view of conflict and its possible resolution has broadened in many ways. And I fear that for me-Utis would have been enough to bring my opponent to his knees, but for me-Ulysses... He would not have forgiven such an attitude if Face had guided me, and there would have been far worse consequences for Yol and me. I didn't want to have to flare up because of this or any other little thing, to take revenge on someone for a petty or contrived insult in such a way that the consequences of that revenge would make my whole life go down the drain in turn.

And my very understanding of revenge is very different from the way the Achaeans understood the word. I believe that revenge is a necessary tool for those around me to understand: if you do something bad to me, be prepared for the consequences. But revenge for revenge's sake, I have never accepted such a thing...

My thoughts swirled smoothly around the subject for most of the way back. The guys sat in silence, and I was not disturbed. It was only when the city came into view that the bikers started to stir and began to bicker, as was usual for the three of them, arguing about nothing while vehemently defending their position. At any other time, I would have continued to stare out the window and mind my own business, but now I felt it would not have been the right choice.

As far-fetched as I think Anton and Phil's "resentment" towards me for "quitting" early, I still need a good relationship with these guys. Besides, I have long ago gotten rid of my antipathy to the Goons, I even like them in some ways. In fact, since rescuing Slider, I generally look at bikers with different eyes. For this reason, I didn't keep quiet but joined in their argument. I even argued a little on a topic I wasn't really interested in, about the appointment of a new coach for the national rugby team. When we arrived, I realized that my choice had been the right one, the coldness in An and Phil's relationship with me had thawed somewhat.

As usual, the bikers dropped me off at the entrance to the restaurant. After saying goodbye to the guys and noticing that the hall was empty and the lights were off, I went straight up to my flat instead of going to work. I kicked off my shoes, threw my jacket on the back of an armchair, and collapsed onto the bed. There was no physical fatigue as such, but somehow I felt as if I had been training under Lance all day.

This Voyage for the Veil has really thrown me for a loop. There was too much that was new to me. The answers to many questions made me even more aware of how little I understood about the world around me.

After lying around for about twenty minutes, I pulled myself together, got out of bed, and sat down in a chair. I thought about turning on the computer, but instead, I got a piece of paper and a pencil out of the drawer. The questions and thoughts about Arch and Face would have to wait. There were more important things to do now. If nothing changed in Daas's plans, I would have an important conversation with my boss today.

How important?

Perhaps defining my future for many years to come. This means that as much as I don't like improvisation, playing without preparation only on a rough outline and a general idea of the situation, in this case, I should prepare.

Dividing the sheet into two parts, I thought about it. No, two parts were not enough, so I divided it into four. Then, after writing down a few lines, I crumpled up the sheet and threw it away. The division into parts was not appropriate in this case...

After about an hour, leaning back, I took the flowchart sheets in my hands and, clearing my mind as best I could try to look at my labors from the outside.

Since Ten Daas is much more experienced than me, and I cannot calculate him and therefore have a high degree of probability of assessing the course of the future dialogue, my schemes were not built on predictions and options. Each central brick in the block meant what I wanted to get, and the sub-blocks meant what concessions I could make for it and what was categorically unacceptable. I needed all these schemes for essentially two things. First, I need to gather my thoughts and formulate my goals more clearly. Second, during the conversation, I would have a kind of foundation on which I could build my position. Of course, all of this could have been written down in the form of talking points, and it would probably have been much quicker, but it was more visual and memorable.

I was satisfied in principle, collected all the drafts that were scattered on the floor and, together with the final draft, tore them into little shreds and flushed them down the toilet. A sudden attack of paranoia? Possibly.

To switch my attention and not dwell on one topic, I turned on the computer. But did not start the Arena. I opened the search engine and found some articles on the history of the Veters. I was indeed curious to read about these tribes, to compare what I had seen behind the Arch with what historians knew. Out of five articles, one was written in the lively, clear, and interesting language. I was reading it without noticing how almost two hours flew by. As I closed the article, I remembered I still wanted to know more about the Order. But before I could search for information on it, I needed a snack because my stomach was already howling in a guttural voice, demanding attention to its needs.

I got up from the computer and walked over to the fridge, opening the tight door to stare at the almost empty shelves. Kronos, I'd forgotten the last time I'd gone grocery shopping, having grown accustomed to eating in a restaurant kitchen. And today was the day off. I was too lazy to go to the shop, but I had no idea what I could make with a couple of eggs, a small piece of hard-as-a-stone cheese, and a couple of canned goods, except an empty fried egg. Not long ago, I would have fried eggs without bothering and been quite happy with this snack. But lately, I had become so used to eating good food that this prospect was not very inspiring at the moment. Oh, dear! With all the hustle and bustle and the Goon's resentment, we had forgotten to pick up the pies we had promised Illea!

By the way...

Is she's definitely fine?

It wasn't that I was too worried or seriously concerned that her trip to the mountains might end in something bad. Except that somehow, I felt a little uncomfortable. Should I call to check on her? What if she's on her bike right now? Yeah, and what am I gonna say to her, "Are you okay? Daas says you're riding in the mountains. Are you all right?" Stupid, and I'd screw the boss over a bit.

After swiping the smartphone in his hands, he opened messenger and, after selecting his chief's contact, typed:

Any tips on what to make with a couple of eggs, a hundred grams of hardened cheese, canned crabs, and beans in tomato sauce? There's nothing else in the fridge.

If she answers, I will know that nothing has happened to her for sure.

I put my phone down, sat back in my chair, and opened the first article I could find about the Order of Slayers, waiting for a reply while I stared at my smartphone screen. I read almost a quarter of the text, but there was still no reply, and I caught myself starting to worry. Maybe I should call? But as I thought about it, there was a knock on my door.

"Yes?" Walking to the door, I asked.

"It's a courier from Amarasi, a food delivery company." It came back to me.

When I opened the door, I saw a young boy in a company uniform, looking like a high school student, holding a thermal bag. The boy bowed and handed me a couple of hot-touch containers of food.

"Sign here, please," he asked, holding out a sheet of the consignment note and a pen.

"How much from me?" I asked, signing my name.

"Everything has already been paid for online." The boy's eyes slammed back at us in bewilderment. "Enjoy your meal and come back for more! Bye-bye!" With a swift movement, the boy almost ran down the stairs.

Closing the door behind me and placing the containers on the table, I reached for my smartphone, but before I could pick it up, it vibrated, receiving an incoming message.

Don't suffer, I've seen you cook, don't poison yourself. Delivery's on me, you promised cakes, but I didn't feed you. P.S. I'll be there tonight and I'll make you something for dinner.

Yeah, that's exactly Illea's style, to do what no one expects her to do. She ordered my food! And she paid for it herself. Although her opinion of my culinary skills is a little disappointing because I can cook scrambled eggs, that's for sure! But the main thing is, from the text, she's fine, and she even seems to be in a good mood. Maybe Daas was worried about nothing. He would know better, though, because he knows more about Illea than I do.

The lunch the chief had ordered was even tasty. Of course, it was not as good as her cooking, but I thought it was excellent when I was hungry. I threw the empty food containers in the trash and remembered to text Illea to thank her for her concern. Then I sat down at the computer again.

* * *