Chapter 2

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When I got to the door and already put my hand on the doorknob, I remembered Illea's unhappy grimace and her words about my not smelling good. I thought about it for about ten seconds, but I decided to take a shower first and then go down to the hall.

I went into the bathroom and noticed my reflection in the mirror. What I saw made me look more closely. On my face, like a mask, there was an unfamiliar smile, tightly pressed lips, and an unkind gleam in my eyes. I undressed, turned on the hot water, and climbed under the shower, trying to relax and calm my frantically racing thoughts. I failed for ten minutes, but gradually the hot streams of water got their effect, and the tension began to disappear. I was able to calm my racing thoughts and begin to think more or less calmly.

That call, who needed it? The more I think about it, the more it looks like someone's not a very clever joke. I don't think Daas was behind it, though he had the skills to handle it. As far as I could tell, the boss knew a lot more about technology and programming than I did. Besides, he had access to my phone a couple of times when I left my smartphone on the counter and went to the back room to run errands. Reprogramming my smartphone so that it would display a different number instead of a certain one was possible in principle. Except that just because he could theoretically do it doesn't mean that he did it.

I have great doubts about it because it's obviously not his style. This kind of joke is more in the spirit of Jiro, who has a very specific sense of humor. But the bartender, I've never seen him as a tech-savvy guy. He was looking at the touch bar with a certain amount of displeasure. Illea could also joke in this way, and sometimes she behaves in a way that puts me in a complete stupor. Except that, like with Jiro, our chef doesn't have enough knowledge. The longer I stood under the shower, the more I was sure that the Goons, or rather Meck, were behind these calls and messages. After the Temple, I barely got in the car and was immediately passed out, which means that the bikers could well get to my phone. And the fact that the Goons are capable of any of the wildest jokes I had no doubts whatsoever. After the Pilgrimage, I was fully convinced that they were all a little crazy. Because an adequate man would not risk his life regularly!

Of course, their motive is not clear, but to calculate the motivation of people who are not friendly with their heads is an activity doomed to failure in advance. That is, the best behavior for me would be to completely ignore this call and messages. Being the object of various jokes and evil pranks, for me, is usual since school, and the best response to them is to pretend that you do not notice them or that they do not affect you at all. Only this kind of behavior can discourage pranksters. Of course, all these reflections of mine do not mean that by ignoring outwardly, I will completely forget. Oh, no, as soon as I pinpoint the joker, I won't fail to repay him in kind. I'll have to clean my smartphone and reinstall the system, but I'll do that later, closer to the evening.

After I left the shower and changed my clothes, I calmed down. So I went down to the hall in a completely normal mood. Normal, of course, adjusted for my absolutely disgusting physical well-being. Even on my way down the stairs, I felt like an unfinished robot, with ill-fitting hinges instead of knees and legs that were always going to buckle.

I found Ten Daas behind the bar. The boss seemed to be working, but not at the sensor table, but at a monstrous-looking laptop that looked like it weighed about seven kilograms. He turned around at the sound of the door opening, noticed me, and gestured to me that he was a little busy. I had no particular desire to talk to him. To be exact, maybe I had a desire, but realizing that my head was so heavy today that I was unlikely to have a normal conversation, I was even glad of the pause. When I got to the coffee machine, I brewed myself a cup of espresso. I am not a big fan of coffee and I usually prefer a good cup of tea, but after sitting at the table and drinking the first sip, I realized that I had not made a wrong choice. Not that my head cleared up after a few sips, no, that did not happen, but the little boost of vivacity that the hot drink gave me was just what I needed.

Fifteen minutes later, when I'd finished my coffee and decided to ignore Illea's advice about talking to Daas and go to bed, the boss closed the laptop lid, stretched like a cat that had just gotten its hands on fresh sour cream, and focused his eyes on me. Then he got to his feet and grabbed a carton of tomato juice and a beer glass from the fridge and sat down next to me.

"You look good." The boss pronounced, giving me an examining look.

Is he in agreement with the chief? What "looking good"? A squeezed lemon looks better than me!

"Yes, and the look is not as dim as Illea said." Daas poured himself some juice and took a big sip. "Curious..." He muttered as he continued to stare at me in a completely unceremonious way. "Of course, I knew you had a lot of potential but..." The boss was silent for a moment, letting me know that he knew my face for sure. "To say I wasn't surprised would be a bit of an exaggeration."

"I remember someone telling me that it's not customary to discuss other people's Faces." I snapped faintly at that phrase. Maybe I should have been angry but I didn't have the energy for it, so this outrage was the most I could do today.

"Correction..." The boss grinned. "It's not customary to discuss a stranger's Faces..."

"Just because I work for you, does that make us close relatives now?" My anger began to boil, but it was dull, not serious.

"From the Goons' point of view, you're not an ordinary worker. Or do you think I took everyone who works for me to their base and let them know the Faces of many of them?"

"Can we speak plainly today, without hints, innuendo, or any other mist? If I had to choose between a game of riddles and sleep, I would definitely choose the latter today." Even yesterday I wouldn't have risked talking to Daas in that way, but after what I experienced there beyond the Arch, my understanding of acceptable risk has shifted a bit.

"Yeah..." The boss muttered in response to my rebuke, and then laughed, unkindly, you could even tell that his laughter was spiced with a certain amount of sympathy. "You've been under a lot of pressure, haven't you?" He shook his head, glanced thoughtfully at my face again, and then suddenly asked. "Take the cup, lift it above the table, and hold it outstretched in your hand for as long as you can."

Since Ten Daas had never before seen me make unreasonable requests, I complied with his order. What could be so hard about holding an empty coffee cup over the table? But I guess I do get sick, because in less than a minute the almost weightless cup felt like it weighed a ton, and I put my hand down.

"Just as I thought..." As soon as I put the cup on the table, the boss said. "Well, I'm ready to answer your questions. Where do I start? Why do the Goons think you're my protégé, or why do you feel like shit right now?"

"From the second one." This particular question at this particular moment in time worried me a lot more.

"Good." Daas nodded at me. "I'll tell you right off the bat, you're not sick. If they examine you now at the clinic, I don't think they'll find any infections or anything. I don't know about your arm, I'm not talking about it now, but about your general condition. This weakness you're feeling has a completely different origin..." After a sip of juice, he continues.

"Let me explain. Remember we talked about how the body is drawn to the Face Matrix, and you can take advantage of that." Noticing my affirmative nod, the boss continued. "But there's a downside to this phenomenon. The greater the gap in physical indicators between a person and his Face, the stronger the rollback of this mismatch. You are now a classic example of these words. Your spirit remembers the abilities you had behind the Arch. Mind you, you could pull a Silver Bow, and you could pick up a shield that wasn't light, and if you did it now, you couldn't even take it off the floor. Let me guess, you feel like you've been submerged in some kind of mousse... You're having a hard time moving, and you feel like you've got the whole sky on your shoulders?"

These words sent shivers down my spine. How did he describe my condition so accurately?

"For example, that cup you put back on the table so quickly. When a man holds something heavy for a long time with the last of his strength, his hands begin to shake from the strain..." The boss looked expressively at my right palm. "Notice that your hand wasn't shaking, you just felt that this cup was hard to hold. As I mentioned before, your feeling is not an illness. It's more of an unsynchronization." Daas made a characteristic gesture with his hand as if he were looking for the right words.

"Yes, you could call it a desynchronization, between the spiritual component and the bodily component. If you exercised, attended a gym, or otherwise keep an eye on your physical form, it would be a lot easier for you now. But since you've never taken care of yourself in that respect, even started running a couple of weeks ago, you're now reaping the benefits of your laziness." I wanted to argue that it was not laziness, but that I preferred to spend my time on other things, but I didn't. Because my objection would have been nothing more than a lie, especially to myself.

"But the Face that chose you is very, very advanced in terms of physicality. Yes, not Hercules or Ajax the Huge, but still Ulysses was stronger than many, many people... That's why you get pounded, everything seems heavier than it really is, and the tremendous weakness you feel all grow out of this difference... The difference in the physical parameters between you and Face. But it is precisely this desynchronization that can be used to your advantage because as I said before, your spirit's memory of the Face will literally drag your body under the conditioning of Ulysses. Within the realm of possibility, of course, for someone who doesn't have the blood of the gods in his veins..." Saying this, he sighed in feigned and feigned disappointment.

"If you take advantage of it, of course, instead of going to bed pitying yourself, then it'll go away in a couple of weeks by itself. How do I know that? I could tell you that I've seen plenty of examples of this from watching the Goons, but that wouldn't be the whole truth... And it's rare for anyone to be as overwhelmed as you were after the first Pilgrimage. It takes too much imbalance between a man and his Face, on the physical plane, for it to be so bad after returning from the Pilgrimage. I don't think even Rick was that bad because he had been a pretty professional swimmer since high school, like setting the canton record for boys in the fifty-meter distance. So, when he was chosen by the Face of Aeneas, he didn't have as much of an imbalance as you do... My understanding of your well-being lies in the fact that I've been through a similar thing myself. To tell you the truth, before my first trip to the Arch, I was even weaker than you."

I look at the boss and somehow I can't believe what he says. Even the shapeless robe he's always wearing can't conceal his athletic figure. And if you look at his hands, it is clear that he can easily knot a horseshoe and not even break a sweat while doing so.

"So I understand you perfectly, and I can give you some advice." When he saw me nod, he continued. "One. Eat a lot, preferably a lot of protein and vitamins. What Illea cooked for you today is a perfect mix in your present condition... I hope you ate it and didn't pour it down the toilet. That's good. Number two. Don't pass up your chance to get your body in shape. Two weeks well spent now, yes, a hard two weeks, with the exercise through the overcoming and the weakness will give you the groundwork for your whole life. Even if you never do anything afterward, your spiritual matrix won't let you go below a certain point. I think you realize that this will only have a positive impact on your game results, too, don't you?"

"Yes..." Sensei has talked my ear off about the fact that there's a direct correlation between a player's fitness and his results in cybersport, so the boss' words are nothing new.

On the one hand, I understand what Daas is saying. His words seem right and reasonable. Yes, and what he said earlier, his logic fits perfectly. But... Doing sports in my present state? That's masochism of the highest order! I'm thinking about the fact that I would have to walk up the stairs to my floor, with terror, and here we are talking about much more! I now have only one wish - to lie down and die, quietly in my bed, covered with a warm blanket, so no one would touch me and I wouldn't have to do anything... Why did I go down to the hall in the first place? The initial fervor had worn off, and now it seemed like a mistake.

On the other hand, if I left now, if I succumbed to weakness, I would regret it later, for once I woke up, I would not forgive myself if I did not know the answer to the second question: "Why did Daas single me out from the start? It didn't take long for curiosity to fight weakness and win it by a landslide, so instead of saying "thank you" and walking away, I leaned back on the couch and said:

"Thank you for your explanations." Not to say that my words were full of gratitude, but I must admit that what Ten Daas said reassured me a great deal. It's one thing to have a serious illness and another to have a fairly normal process that can go away on its own. "What about the other question?"

"It's simple..." The boss met my gaze as if weighing whether or not he should tell the truth. "And hard at the same time... No, there's no big secret. You've probably guessed by now that this restaurant and this house with its rented apartments are, shall we say, not the job of my life." The corners of his lips twitched, and I immediately remembered the perfectly equipped Goon base and Ten Daas's remarks about how it was built. One can't earn tens or even hundreds of millions of francs on a restaurant and a single apartment building, that's for sure.

"My, let's say, sabbatical has been pretty much overdue. Another six months at most, and I'll have to get back to my main projects, or everything will go down with it..." This time he drank the juice in small sips, pausing. "No matter how good hired managers and professionally selected management team, without the attention of the owner any business begins to stall." There are enough examples in the history of business to prove his words right, so I nodded in agreement.

"I'll leave the restaurant and the house in Illea's care. She's a great cook and knows how to put people in their place. As a manager, Illea is also quite competent, though she is oppressive, but in the case of running a lucrative house that's a plus. She also knows all the Goons and their history and has reasonable respect among them." This last one is completely incomprehensible to me but nevertheless, I have already been convinced that it is so. The same Anton seems to be quite scared of our chef. "But she doesn't know much about technique and... She does not know how to bargain at all, this process irritates her. She's also organically intolerant of having to "negotiate" with civil service employees... And as you can imagine, one can do business without "greasing the cogs", but it will make a terrible creaking sound. So... I was just about to start looking for helpers for her in the near future. And then you came along..." He threw up his hands.

"The truth is that finding someone who knows what buttons to press and how to configure the sensor systems is a matter of seconds..." I was offended by this statement but in fact, he is right. The "smart restaurant" only seems to be a very advanced system but in fact, it is built on standard blocks and the only thing new about it is the scope of application. "Nevertheless, you were such a good fit for the position of technical consultant that I didn't have to look for one. But I also needed someone to deal with procurement. And that's where you showed great bargaining skills. Are you aware that you manage to buy for my culinary experiments fresh goods cheaper than our restaurant buys from the same vendors in bulk?" Now, this was not a very pleasant discovery. That is, Daas was well aware of how much I pocketed each time I made a morning purchase. He knew and kept quiet, so it was a kind of encouragement or something, a kind of unspoken bonus?

"That's when it occurred to me, why look for several helpers when you can make do with one? And the only bottleneck in the whole local business is the Goons. They are "roofs" from small gangs, and informers, and just a treasure trove of talent, for which I have huge plans... As a matter of fact, they are the basis of my ownership of anything in this place at all." Now that was very frank of him.

"And again, coincidentally, you yourself took a genuine interest in this organization because of the Runner. And you even managed to find common ground with Rick, the second man in their hierarchy." He poured himself some more juice, thought about something for a while, and then his gaze turned into the two cannons of the turret of the main caliber. "To tell you the truth, I did not believe in such a coincidence. It's very rare in life that you barely think you need someone with certain qualities, and then they happen to come your way." A chill ran down my spine, and even weakness receded from the bad feeling. "But you're very young... Don't look so crooked, it's a statement of fact, not an insult. Besides, it's a factor that saved your life, if not your health for sure." Something about Ten Daas's level of frankness is starting to scare me, it's really starting to hiccup.

"It is impossible to train an infiltration specialist at such a young age. To be exact, it is possible, but this training can only be conducted based on its Face, and this Face must have very specific, so to speak, skills. But you really were a "civilian" that is, you didn't have a countenance, and... That's where my theory that you were someone's agent started to crumble like a house of cards... And the more I talked to you, the more I believed our meeting was an accident. And today, when I got to know your face, I appreciated the chuckle of fate..." A calculator clicked in my head, sifting through those to whom Odysseus had crossed the path. But there were so many such personalities, that after a couple of seconds I gave up this futile exercise. Though, frankly speaking, there is only one variant that frightens me. It scares the hell out of me, because outwardly, especially in terms of hidden power, my boss looks like one of the legendary heroes, who has a tooth the size of Jomolungma on my Face.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"Well, yes, because I'm going to give Odysseus some of my property to manage. There really is something to smile about." The lump in my throat became the size of my fist, those words hint at the size of a cow!!!

If I'm right in my hunch, this conversation will end with me dead. And this whole conversation is just a trivial game between an experienced cat and a silly mouse. And to tell the truth, if the Face of Daas is exactly what I thought it was, then I would try to kill Ulysses sitting across as well. Because what Odysseus did to him is impossible to forgive and forget, even after thousands of years...

"It's a funny story." With a slight smile on my face, I took the juice packet and held his glass up to me.

Apparently, Daas was a little taken aback by my insolence, and yet I took his glass instead of going for a clean one. That could only explain why he didn't stop me. I filled the glass, peppered and salted the juice, and then brought it to my lips. But as soon as the boss looked away, I splashed the peppered and salted liquid on his face and ran for the exit.

My fleeing was a gesture of desperation, and I decided to do it spontaneously, more out of sheer fright. I didn't think about the fact that all my things were left in the apartment, and where was I supposed to run to?

I couldn't escape, either. I had no time to make a couple of steps before Ten Daas literally flew over the table and, in one leap, pushed his hands off the tabletop, and knocked me to the ground with a swinging blow to the knee. Then he piled his full weight on top of me and twisted me with unbelievable ease.

"You... What are you doing? Tartarus!" He hissed, pinning me to the floor."

I wanted to scream, but could only mumble something unintelligible and quiet.

"Calm down!" There was no anger in his voice, but genuine bewilderment and even resentment.

And it's his intonation that makes me realize I'm the biggest fool I've ever seen. Ooh! What an idiot I am!

"What's gotten into you?!" He's got me under even more pressure, Daas asks.

Drops of tomato juice from his face drip down my nose, and I start laughing. Maybe I'm going crazy, or maybe I am, but I can't help it and I laugh. Laugh out loud. As much as my situation allows me, of course. The laughter is pathetic, more like a sobbing cackle.

"What's going on here?" In the doorway, as usual completely silently, Illea appears.

Daas immediately gets up from me and starts wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Uthis seems to be under a lot of post-arch stress." He explains. "Out of the blue, he pour a glass of juice on me and rushed to the exit screaming, "They're killing me!" Well, he's exaggerating. I didn't yell anything.

I'm not laughing anymore, because I understand that there is nothing funny about what is happening. I just behaved like a complete idiot and probably put an end to a fairly promising option for my future. Now I could cry rather than laugh, even at my own stupidity.

"Did he catch the Face of P..." Illea began to speak and her eyes flashed very unkindly, but Daas interrupted her at once.

"Odysseus fell on him." He explained, standing between me and the front door.

"Hmmm." The chief answered. "Then I don't understand anything!"

"I don't get it, either!" In utter bewilderment, the boss says, squinting at me with some apprehension, the way one usually looks at violent patients who are not responsible for their actions.

"Utis..." Coming over to me, Illea crouched down beside me. "Are you there?" She waved her hand in front of my eyes.

"I'm ok." I'm trying to suppress my emotions racing like a herd of hippos, and I'm trying to say the word calmly. "Can I sit at the table?" I ask Daas.

I waited for him to nod and got to my feet, involuntarily rubbing my knee where the boss's leg had hit me. He had hit me pretty well, mowing me down like a sickle, and I didn't even have time to understand. He could... Well, what can't he do? With his Face! What a company I'm in! Tell anyone, they wouldn't believe it. Here are Rick and Lance, whose Faces after Illea's sentence became as clear as water from a crystal-clear spring. The number of unique individuals per square kilometer in this area clearly exceeds all conceivable norms by a thousand times!

But how could I have misunderstood?! Come to think of it, I should have known sooner, after Lance's laugh on that run. But we're all very smart in hindsight.

And his words about ownership, no, that wasn't my fault either! He just put one thing in them, and I understood them differently but the mistake was understandable. Instantly I was relieved, I'm not crazy, just amid the experiences of these 24 hours, did a foolish thing. But since this foolishness is the kind that has a logical basis, it means that my mind is still with me, and this calms me down.

I sat down at the table, wiped my face with a napkin from the juice, and handed the rest of the pack to Daas.

"My apologies, Boss. But when you said that there was irony in the fact that you wanted to put some of the management of your property in the hands of Odysseus, I understood it somewhat differently than I should have..."

"Sto-o-o-op!" Illea cut in, not even letting her bosses open their mouths. "Boys, let's sit down..." She looked heavily at Daas. "Let's all sit down at the table... And you will explain everything to me. One at a time!"

Now that I guessed about the real Face of Daas, there was something surreal about it, watching such a man uncomplainingly submit to this very nice and pretty but still a woman! Unbelievable! Was she a goddess?! But there are no gods' Faces, all the gods except for the Trefaced are fed to Kronos, and even their Faces are gone. Then why does he allow her to command him? And it's not the first time it's happened.

I must say that Daas has a phenomenal memory, he recounted our entire conversation almost word for word.

"And then Utis, without a word, spat in my face from his glass!" He finished his story. "Well, you saw the rest for yourself."

"Sometimes you're clever, and sometimes you're so stupid..." With sincere sympathy, Illea looked at Daas as if he were a small and unintelligent boy. "I would have run away after those words, too, if I had been a boy with the Face of Odysseus!"

I'm sitting in silence, I'm curious, will she really guess my motivation for running away?

"You didn't tell him your Face, did you?" She asks.

"And I won't." Daas snorts back, clearly a little offended by her condescending tone. "If he was chosen by the Cunning One for a reason, he'll understand." He grinned at me. "Someday."

I'm tempted to say, "I already know," but I restrain myself. Let everyone think I'm in the dark, it's probably a trump card up my sleeve!

"Since he didn't say so, it's clear as day. Think about it, who would Odysseus run away from while flashing his heels?" I think Illea is flattered that she figured something out before Daas did, and now she's taking advantage of the moment to the best of her ability.

"Pfft... I can think of a dozen names at a glance..." Boss trying to get out of this interrogation.

But apparently, this is not part of the chief's plans, and she presses on.

"Yes, and did many have such an acute property issue with Odysseus that Utis might have decided he was about to be killed?"

"Well, well." Daas stretches and begins to curl his fingers. "The first... Eurith. Still, the old man wasn't as simple-minded as his son, and he could have had his revenge for The Bow." I think the idea is a bit far-fetched, but I don't say anything. So in silence sits the Storm Bearer, whatever that nickname the Goons gave her. "The second... Palamed, there was definitely a reason for that, as Ulysses planted Trojan gold in his tent and accused him of treason, after which Palamed was condemned and executed by his own men." Even though this story is pretty nasty but here I understood Odysseus. I didn't justify or accept his act but it was understandable to me. It was Palamedes who dragged Ulysses into the Trojan War by putting Odysseus' newborn son under the oxen pulling the plow, and he was forced to reveal his identity and still go off to war. Meanwhile, Daas continued. "Ajax the Huge. That's who for sure if he came back to life, ca..." The boss's eyes widen like two saucers. "Holy Gaia."

"Do you guess it..." She snapped her fingers, looking down at the boss. "Utis you decided to run away after what Ten said about irony and ownership, didn't you? [1]" I never thought she was stupid, but she struck me now.

"I was wrong..." I confirm Illea's conclusions. "I misunderstood what the boss said."

He looked at us with a heavy stare, Ten Daas shrugged and tilted his head, and said in an outwardly calm voice.

"Did you both hit your heads? What the Gaia kind of Ajax am I?" The boss's indignation is genuine."

Why, what is he? Is the Face of Ajax Thelemonides bad? The Greeks even dedicated temples to him. There's a little nuance... Yes, Ajax was a great warrior, a strong fighter, and a true hero. Except, even reading the legends which love to embellish everything it becomes clear that this Achaean leader was not the smartest person. And something tells me that this is a mild way of saying "not the smartest", maybe it's an echo of Face that speaks to me? And there's no way I can call Daas stupid. Perhaps, for this reason, the boss's face was a mixture of bewilderment and mild indignation. Which reminds me, once again, of the mistake I'd made.

"You really surprise me sometimes." There's a touch of a sneer in Illea's voice. "How many times have I told you, don't judge people by yourself? First Rick, now Utis. You're making the same mistakes again!" What's she talking about? "One or the other, you put them both down as smart men. That's a mistake." I couldn't even find the words, it was so unexpected. "They're the larvae of smart people. In the meantime... So far they're just clever young men with, no doubt, a lot of potentials, but nothing more. The first is barely twenty-one and the second is only nineteen, their life is just beginning. And intelligence is not only the brain but also experience, which only comes with years." After my stunt with the escape, I have nothing to say to her.

"But I'm their age." Daas tries to object, but for the umpteenth time today, Illea prevents him from speaking.

"I repeat... Don't judge other people by yourself. You are you, and Rick is Rick, Utis is Utis, they are not you..." The chief's heavy sigh, tells me this isn't the first time she's tried to get these words across to the boss. "Now back to your situation." Waving her hand at Daas, she turns sharply to me. "Utis, do you still think you're in some kind of danger here and want to escape?"

"No."

"Good." Nodding to me, Illea turns her gaze back to the boss. "Ten, have your plans for Utis changed?"

"After knowing his Face... What I told him, about the plans for his future work did not take into account this nuance. And when I was just about to change the subject and start a substantive conversation what you witnessed happened. So changing my plans about Utis is a topic for a separate conversation." Wiping another spot of juice off his face with his napkin, he adds. "If there's going to be such a conversation at all..."

"You've done a very foolish thing, Utis." I don't like that sympathy in Illea's voice, it hints at big trouble, very big trouble. "That you dared to run away, all right... Even if you tried to hit Ten, that's understandable. But you shouldn't have thrown juice in his face. In the times you knew, they used to break mugs and jugs of wine over their heads at drunken parties, no one was surprised by that... But... Spilling a drink in the face... They used to kill people for that."

A chill ran down my spine because I could see clearly now that Daas's eyes were bloodshot. If he, as I think, often went on the Pilgrimage and achieved a high Fusion with the Face, then I've really gone over the edge because of my own idiotic mistake.

"You owe a debt of insult." Calmly say these words to this pretty and seemingly defenseless woman. "Ten be silent..." Illea does not let him get a word in edgewise. "Don't say anything." The boss immediately exhales, leaning back on the back of the sofa and bowing his head in agreement. "Utis, the man and his Face, are not the same person, but nevertheless Face's influence can be very great. Ten is a reasonable and sane man, but he was too frequent a guest behind the Arch, and his Face was the kind of man who could not forgive..."

While she paused, I went over in my head all I knew about the Face of Daas, and I think I agree with Illea that he was not known for the virtue of forgiveness.

"No, you don't have to fear for your life." She seems to notice something in my eyes, and then she changes her tone to a softer one. "Ten knows how not to succumb to Face's influence." From the corner of my eye, I note that he nods at her words. "Except in some aspects, I know him better than he does. He..."

That theatrical pause she'd taken was weighing on my shoulders like a hundred-ton mountain. Meanwhile, Illea twirled an almost empty juice box in her hand, then stared at me for a long time with a look of sympathy that made me want to fall under the ground.

"There!" With a triumphant grin, Illea suddenly jumped up from the table and pointed her finger at me, and laughed. "Well, Ten, look, I'm talking outright nonsense, and he believes it! A debt of insult, as if we were really living in the Second Trojan War [2] and not in modern times. He needs at least five years to match his Face even in the first approximation, and that's if he has good teachers!"

"Got it, got it..." Daas waved back with a sour smile on his face. "It couldn't be clearer."

What just happened? Was I being played like a baby? For a moment there was an almost overwhelming desire to be outraged, but then, immediately, came the admiration for Illea's performance. She wasn't playing this whole scene for me, she was playing it for the boss! And for good reason, he was clearly relaxed and looking at me more calmly.

"Are you offended?" Leaning toward me, the chief said.

"Is there anything to be offended about?" I answer question by question, outwardly remaining calm.

"Clever boy." If she had rubbed my head with her palm at those words, as for a moment I thought she was going to, my contrived composure might have gone to Tartarus, but she didn't and just sat back down. "Who lacks experience." Those words are clearly not meant for me anymore.

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Daas got it right.

"Yes, you're both children." Illea brushed his indignation aside. "Utis, if you're not going to run away anytime soon, could you leave Ten and me alone?"

"Okay." I get up from the table, it's even better. After what happened, I obviously need a break.

"And don't go to sleep, I'll be up to see you in about half an hour... If you don't mind?"

"If you take something sweet with you." I just recently ate an entire bucket of some super-nutrient liquid, and now I'm hungry again, so my words are not a simple desire to reserve the last word for myself.

"Certainly." She nodded and waved her hand, hinting for me to get out quickly.

Already closing the door to the hall behind me, I hear the angry, on the verge of rage, Illea's voice.

"What do you mean, The vacation has taken quite a long time...?!"

It seems to have come as a surprise to her that Daas is going to leave this place in about six months. Yeah, even with what I've been through today, I feel a little sorry for him; Illea's anger is not something one would wish on an enemy.

I was in my room, and I realized that what had happened in the restaurant had drained me dry. I took off my shoes with difficulty, fell onto the bed in my clothes, and stared at the ceiling. My thoughts were rolling around in my head sluggishly, as if in some kind of viscous kissel.

What depressed me the most was my stupidity. It was a blunder on the spot and such a blunder. A completely stupid and pointless thing to do. Pointless in the sense that even if I had succeeded in escaping, it would have solved nothing. Well, where would I escape to? Home, university? Three times "Ha!" I told Daas everything about myself, and if he really wanted to kill me, then with his connections and money, it would be no problem to find a person knowing so much about him. But this is all external, the basis of the error is another thing, well, how could I think that Daas has the face of Ajax? Oh, I am such a fool. I had fallen for the outward manifestation of power, forgetting the main thing, the affinity of characters, between a person and his Face.

And how lucky I was that on this particular day off, Illea was still at the restaurant. Who knows how things would have turned out if she hadn't shown up? I think the consequences of my stupidity would have been much more serious. However, even now I don't know what the consequences would be...

But how sly is our chief! Now, as I cooled down and analyzed the conversation more or less calmly, I realized that everything she said served one purpose, to smooth over my actions and reassure the boss. These deliberately explicit accusations of my inexperience, she chose those exact words for a reason. Yes, there was a risk on her part that I would snap, but here too she would probably turn that snap as proof of her words. Tartarus! How right she is. I am a larva! To the level of understanding of interlocutors and the situation that she showed in this episode, I am like Sisyphus to the end of his job! Yes, in the ability to defuse the situation, a psychology professor at the university is not even close to her. Illea has the ability to manage not only people but also the situation. What's her Face like?

By the totality of the skills she displayed, I would say Cleopatra, but she does not resemble her in everything else. In general, our chief's talents are very much like the echoes of the experience of a skillful general. After all, the basis of a warlord's skill is not only the choice of a good position for a battle, and not even the logistics of war, but management and, above all, the management of people. However, what to think in vain, if she wants to, she will tell herself, this is not an issue that requires a quick decision. There are more important problems for me today.

Tartarus! The most frustrating thing about all this is that Daas's hints about my near future really interested me. Not only a possible new position, and I have to admit, for a simple almost expelled student the position is not that not bad, but to put it bluntly - excellent. How much by the possible prospects of the future? My boss told me quite bluntly that everything I had seen on the block was only a small part of his business, even more like entertainment, although to me it was strange and not entirely understandable. Yes, the boss then said that all these plans of his didn't take into account the Face that got chosen me... But! After all, that conversation he started for a reason, it means some proposal he implied, and I with my disruption did not allow to voice it. And whether I will hear this proposal now, I do not know. I have no illusions, just because my Face is Ulysses, does not mean that all doors are automatically open to me now.

I have the example of Rick in front of me. Yes, since he is among the Goons, he must have had a global breakdown, but nevertheless, now he looks quite reasonable and adequate. And if you remember that his Face - Aeneas, as a manager is a much stronger person than Odysseus and yet ... According to the boss, it takes a few years for him to hold a serious position, despite all the obvious and hidden talents. Because Rick lacks as much life experience as I do, and he's two years older than me. As the older generation says, "youth is that rare flaw that passes with age," but I've just shown, by my example, that no amount of thinking and no Face can make up for inexperience.

Besides, Odysseus was, so to speak, not exactly an unambiguous person. To put it bluntly: "he was full of shit". And to trust a man with the face of Ulysses, I would personally... Аm... I don't know. Would I be able to trust a man like that, to a man on his own wave, or not? That's the question.

On top of that, there's my running away stunt. How it spoils everything! Showing myself from such a side, when everything, as it is clear now, was going just fine!

Time after time my thoughts returned to Descartes. He was the closest example to me, both in age and, if I may say so, in legendary Face. But he, too, had made mistakes. And just because of his inexperience, because of his adolescent tendency to show off. It was his game nickname I was talking about. And he was dissuaded by Daas and Lance from so blatantly hinting at his Face. And yet he didn't listen to them. I'm pulling the cat's tail, but his mistake is nothing compared to the juice that was spilled in Daas's face. So he called himself a Runner on the Boot...

Stop...

Gaia...

Oh, Treefaced...

With a trembling hand, I took out my smartphone and opened the phone book. So, which of the Goons do I have listed? Anton and Meck. I picked the first one at random.

"Оh!" After a couple of beeps, I hear Anton's perplexed voice. "Who's awake? How are you feeling?"

"Thank you, shitty." It costs me a lot of trouble to hide the shiver in my voice. "Isn't Rick there with you?"

"We're having lunch, so yeah, he's sitting right next to us."

"Excuse me, could you pass him the phone?"

"Ahem." He was clearly surprised by my request. "Okay."

"Utis?!" After a couple of seconds, Decart's voice comes over the speaker.

"I didn't have your number, so I had to call through An." I quickly mumbled, explaining the situation a little bit. "There's a question... Personal. Just between us."

After a ten-second pause, Rick does answer:

"I stepped away from the table... Ask."

"Did you come up with your game nickname, Runner on the Boot, after your first Pilgrimage or before it?"

"Of course after, what a stupid question..." He didn't finish, having already realized what I was worried about, the guy really is a quick thinker.

"Thank you," I say, and my eyes go dark.

Before I can get my trembling finger on the reset button, I hear Rick whisper:

"That's some Tartar bullshit..." Which I completely agree with.

* * *