"Damn, it hurts so much!" William pressed a red ball of crumpled napkins to his nose. "The bleeding won't stop."

"Richie, you're a walking disaster! Can you be a little more careful?" Karl, standing next to William, rummaged through the drawers. "I can't find any paper towels or antiseptic."

"Are you kidding me? Do you have eyes in the back of your head?" Richard, slightly flushed with embarrassment, fumbled with the coffee maker. "I don't either. How was I supposed to know he was right behind me?"

The workweek began as chaotic as ever. The office was up and running in fifteen minutes, and the four men gathered, as they always did, to start their day with coffee. The company provided a small break area with a coffee machine. It's hard to remember exactly when the friends began meeting in this almost sacred place for coffee lovers. But for at least a year, employees would gather before the start of each workday to sip a few cups and talk about whatever was on their minds.

"Will, tilt your head back or the bosses will make us paint everything red," George sipped his coffee and reached into the first drawer he found. "Here are some towels and some antiseptic for you."

"Are you someone's mother?" Richard finally finished milking the machine. "Only mothers have the ability to find something that no one else could find, even after turning the whole apartment upside down with the tax auditors."

"Yes, your mother. Son, how many times have I told you to look behind you before you close the door?"

Richie, pretending not to hear his interlocutor, began to devour the free employee cookies with a businesslike demeanor. The man understood that he was to blame. Distracted by a conversation with one of the security guards at the entrance, he didn't notice William entering the building and slammed the door in his friend's face.

"Looks like today's going to be fun," Karl took the soaked napkins from Will. "Fuck, your nose is swollen. How did you manage not to notice?"

It was indeed a tough day for the four friends, as it was for several hundred of their colleagues at the company. A week ago, at another evening meeting, management announced that all vacations would be canceled until the end of the month. Those already on their well-deserved break were called back to their desks. Malcolm Harrington, the deputy director, proudly announced that the company was moving to a whole new level and planning to expand. Management promised to give everyone a bonus equal to another month's salary. The employees' enthusiasm quickly waned, however, when management revealed the details.

The workload that needed to be accomplished was more appropriate for a hyper-corporation, not a small office of just over two hundred people. The icing on the cake was that the department heads and some of the management were constantly checking up on them. They justified it by saying they were trying to "build relationships with subordinates. But the employees understood very well: it was all about monitoring attendance at work and keeping an eye on work progress.

What brought some relief was that the director, along with some of the top brass, preferred to jet off to Vegas, ostensibly to close a deal to acquire another company. And to celebrate the huge profit, but that part wasn't communicated to the employees.

So there they were, sitting at the coffee machine - four of the most ordinary employees, with faces as grim as you can imagine. Although there was plenty of time to complete the tasks, a nervous itch began to grow in everyone's soul. No one wanted to argue about vacations and regular work schedules. Losing a job with a good salary was not desirable, and no one knew what the consequences might be for failing to meet management's plans. It could affect not only their bonus, but also their career prospects.

"So, Richie, finish your cookie. Leave some for the others, it's not just for you." George glanced at his watch several times, probably remembering that he had rented the latest model Smart TV. "The workday starts in five minutes."

"Let me remind you again, Mr. Workaholic, we're waiting for William. Because of you, by the way." Richard tossed an empty package into the trash. "Your underling forgot again that I work here and double-checked my ID."

"Because of me? I told you to get your ID in advance, not when they ask for it!" George jabbed his fingers at his smartphone, trying to find the number of the guard on duty. "What did you tell me? I always enter with it in my hand."

"And I enter with it!" Richard stood and looked down at his friend. "I enter with my pass, Joe, and if you can't organize your people, then shut up and get to work!"

"You two, enough!" the blood from William's nose finally stopped. He was the youngest of the group and held the humble position of Customer Service Manager. But despite his age, Will was respected by his peers for his intelligence, professionalism, and extraordinary integrity. Whether the latter should be considered an asset was a big question. The men around the coffee table fell silent.

"So what do you want, Richard? Are we going to continue this and you're going to apologize again? You already pulled your ID out in front of me when I was trying to keep my blood from spilling all over the lobby." William's right hand carefully felt his swollen nose. "Are you sure we'll make it to our workstations on time with conversations like this?"

"Will, everything is under control. You know I have a gift. Just trust me!" Richie spoke with such confidence that if he had said, "I am the Pope," some people might have actually bowed down. To be fair, there were times when Richard could actually predict when a check was coming, relying solely on his intuition. "Today management will definitely be five minutes late, my gut never fails me."

"How are you going to pay me back if we don't get our bonuses?" Karl, the former head of marketing, chimed in. "Do you think our wallets will be 'thrilled' by your hunch? Or have you forgotten the bet you lost to me when you bet that Serena Morey would be late for work and not notice the accounting girls photoshopping demonic horns onto her picture on the work computer?"

No one could keep a straight face. That day, Morey had screamed so loudly that she spoke in a bass voice for a week. The devout woman had not appreciated such a harmless joke.

The office was full of stories about Karl's penchant for gambling. Some coworkers even claimed that Karl had managed to make a bet from a Quentin Tarantino joke come to life. The trio of his billiard buddies knew these adventures best. Billiards had brought them together at the coffee-point today. For more than a year, these four men of different status and professions had spent every Sunday together playing billiard. Karl's stories about his big bets had become something of a tradition that kicked off their Sunday pool games.

"Relax Karl, don't worry too much," William interjected. "We'll definitely make it before..." His words were cut off by a hiss from the loudspeakers hanging around the office.

"Colleagues, this is Deputy Director Harrington. Please gather in the main conference room in five minutes."

"Looks like our Nostradamus here was wrong this time, gentlemen," smirked George, the deputy head of security. "The bosses are already here. Looks like we're in for another enlightening speech from Malcolm."

Without wasting time on small talk, Richard bolted from the coffee-point and ran down the corridor. His voice echoed in the distance:

"What do you mean, wrong? The bosses are here, but we still have five minutes. Last one there buys everybody beer on Sunday!"

William frowned as he watched his friend dash off. But Richie either deliberately ignored his look or, excited by such an unexpected stroke of luck with his timing, simply didn't notice.

"Guys, you can't be serious..."

George and Karl exchanged looks and jumped up to run after Richard. William sighed resignedly. And these were grown-up, serious men. Running with a broken nose promised to stain his pristine white shirt. Weighing the cost of dry cleaning or even buying new clothes against the price of three bottles of beer, the young man sighed and slowly made his way to the meeting.

By the time William reached the conference hall, his friends were already inside. To his surprise, they were standing. The room, which was designed to seat over one hundred and fifty people, was so crowded that about a quarter of the attendees couldn't find chairs. This meant only one thing: almost everyone in the company was there. Even the security guard who was supposed to be at the entrance was poking his bald head through the crowd.

"I want to apologize to all of you. It was a difficult decision for me and management to call people back from their well-deserved vacations. Don't get me wrong, it was a necessary step to get the company's house in order before we take over the competition!" The director's pearly white Hollywood smile did little to help Kensington's attempts at contrition. "And you, my loyal partners, have done a fantastic job! Just last week, over ninety percent of the necessary work was completed. You have worked selflessly, and I have decided that double pay is not enough for your sacrifice. Each of you will receive a triple bonus in the first quarter of next month!"

Applause filled the room. Employees quickly forgot the agony of overtime. Discussions began about how to spend the windfall. Holidays, expensive gifts for the family, a new car. As people smiled happily, William extended his hand and beckoned his colleagues to a corner of the room. They followed the young man in silence.

"Thank you so much! It is you and you alone who have secured this success for me." Christopher pulled a bottle of whiskey from under the seat. "To you, my dear friends!"

At that moment, the image blurred and began to flicker. Moray jumped up from her seat and began to fiddle with the projector, her hands shaking. The participants, focused on the scene and Moray's frantic attempts at the device, didn't notice that the room had grown significantly darker.

William looked out the window, disbelieving his eyes. The view from the office was indeed beautiful, with a park and fountain in front of them, and neat rows of skyscrapers beyond the green space. Or it had been. Now, instead of buildings, there were real storm clouds blocking out the sun. Lightning flickered in them, occasionally casting deep purples.

William felt infinitely small and powerless. The heavy clouds, weighing thousands of tons, were hurtling toward them at tremendous speed. It was like a tsunami.

William could only utter one word - "FUCK".

Richard stood next to him, silently recording the natural phenomenon on his smartphone. The rest of the crew finally turned their attention to the window. "Richie, send it to me later, my phone's dead!" George whispered, seemingly in shock and not quite understanding what was happening. There was commotion and screaming from the entrance; someone tried to leave the room, but the door wouldn't budge. Then the projector came back on, but there was no image, just a voice.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Dear... Friends... Everything I have... I owe it all to you... I will never forget your sacrifice..."

In an instant, heavy clouds weighing thousands of tons crashed into the seemingly sturdy panoramic windows, which shattered on first contact. The last thing William heard was a series of clearly imaginary words from Richard. Unable to find an appropriate expression to describe the bitterness of the prospect of being crushed by tons of gaseous water, he made up new ones. He spoke as he felt. To William, it even seemed appropriate to the situation.

Darkness enveloped everything. Vision became blurred. It felt like salt water had gotten into your eyes. The head was spinning in the finest tradition of a great hangover. Surprisingly, there was no pain.

A minute later, the disorientation was gone. When vision finally returned to the friends, they looked around in shock, unable to believe their own eyes.

"Just tell my, do you see that?" William asked frantically, trying to recall some folkloric method of dealing with hallucinations.

"I see," George replied weakly.

Carl made several unrelated sounds. Judging by their nature, the former Marketing Director's mouth was as dry as a desert. Meanwhile, Richard continued to stand silently, completely immobile. All four of them tried to comprehend the absurdity of the situation.

Instead of the luxurious conference hall, the clerks found themselves in the middle of a dense forest, completely naked. It was as if they had landed on a reality show called 'Naked Survival'.

The friends were not alone. Right next to them was a guy who worked as a barista on the first floor. There were also other people, apparently visitors or employees of other organizations housed in the building, all dressed in their birthday suits.

The sunlight filtering through the dense canopy of the forest was diffuse, plunging everything into a mysterious semi-darkness. The trees rustled softly with millions of leaves on their branches, as if whispering to each other. A woman's scream echoed in the distance, setting off a chain reaction of similar cries throughout the forest. Gradually, the humans began to realize the predicament they were in. They exchanged confused glances, trying to understand how they had ended up in this place and without clothes.

One girl, only ten meters from friends, covered her chest and stomach with her hands. At first she stared directly at Carl, then began to look around, making several strange, muffled sounds. She hesitated to join the surrounding screams. Carl, covering his private parts, couldn't take his eyes off William.

Richard, who had been motionless the whole time, either whistled or hissed and took a deep, noisy breath, as if for the first time after all that had happened. This breath was a signal to the people, and curses three stories high were unleashed from all sides. George didn't hold back either, making vivid and emphatic sounds that could hardly be called literary language.

Nearby, the young barista looked down at his leg in shock, as did William.

The owner of the cafe on the first floor was an immigrant from a war-torn country. He had moved to the US just a few years ago and opened a small venue. He hired the barista because the barista had lost a leg in one of the bombings in the capital. He couldn't leave a fellow countryman in need when he was just starting out in life.

But now the leg was there. Where William had seen a shiny prosthetic for the past year, there was now a perfectly healthy limb.

Suddenly, Carl stopped staring at William and pointed at his head in confusion.

"Don't point at my face," William said, pushing Carl's hand away. "Use words, speak with your mouth, not gestures."

"Your nose! It's whole!" Carl stared at William's face in amazement.

"What nose?" William asked, confused, and felt his nose. When he touched his face, there was no need for further explanation. There was no pain. Instead of swollen soft tissue, his fingers felt a perfectly healthy nose. The aftermath of the severe blow he had received just half an hour before had vanished without a trace.

Still touching his nose, William looked back at the barista. The young man, his eyes wide with astonishment, examined and touched his leg. He took a small step and... And he began to cry. No, he began to sob.

"Wolverine, really?"

"What are you muttering about, Will?" George, who had finally finished unleashing a torrent of curses, also began to examine their surroundings. "Your nose!"

"Yes, I noticed," William looked at the deputy head of security. "And you, your mole is gone! You know, the one that was under your eye."

"Not just that one, all moles are gone," George stopped examining his naked body and looked at his interlocutor. "Same as you. Same as everyone around here."

The skin of the people around them was perfectly clear, without any moles, scars or other distinguishing marks. Even Carl, who had received a huge scar across his left cheek in one of his bets, was flawless.

William focused on his sensations. There was no pain or dizziness after the incident, but there was a strange pulsation throughout his body. There was another incomprehensible sensation. It was as if a slight dryness enveloped his entire mouth and traveled down his throat to his stomach.

But the most interesting thing was yet to come. Hearing. Will heard almost everything. The rustling of leaves, the scurrying of insects in the bark of a tree twenty meters away from him. And all equally clear. The scribe didn't just hear the people moving disoriented through the forest; he felt their movement. Somewhere in the distance, about half a league away, a burly man was snorting nervously and pacing in circles. From the sound, William could roughly guess where this person was.

The young manager looked around. The surrounding flora resembled the forests or national parks of the central United States. The more Will observed his surroundings, the brighter and clearer the world around him seemed. The colors were vibrant and alive. However, he couldn't enjoy this captivating scene. As soon as he paid attention to his surroundings, his nostrils were filled with numerous forest scents. But the most amazing thing was that he could identify exactly where each scent came from.

The mixed aroma of fresh resin and damp earth immediately struck his sense of smell, reminding him of ancient, untouched forests where nature had preserved its pristine beauty. William could make out the scent of moss that seemed to cover the entire forest in a thin but rich carpet. Ferns added fresh notes to the air, blending harmoniously with the faint scent of conifers, their needles giving off a sweet scent reminiscent of Christmas evenings with the family.

In the distance, William could smell the faint scent of wild mint and basil carried by the wind through the forest. Each breath filled him with a sense of freedom. But among all these earthy and fresh scents, one stood out as particularly tantalizing-a slightly pungent scent of wild truffles growing beneath the roots of one of the trees. Along with the scent of truffles, he detected another. Tempting. Desirable.

Yielding to temptation, Will headed toward the scent. His friends followed like lost kittens. The girl and the barista exchanged glances. Will's group was closest to them, and being alone in the middle of the forest was undesirable. Quickly realizing that they felt safer in a group, they also followed the office workers.

After walking about a hundred meters, they stopped. The scent of truffles and something unknown had led William to a huge old oak tree, next to which was a leaning, time-worn, abandoned cabin. The structure was covered in moss, and the walls reeked of rotting wood. The front door was missing.

William looked into the doorway, which was pitch black. There was a strange, warm, tantalizing smell coming from this abandoned house. The manager took a few steps toward the cabin and heard it. A rhythmic thumping. It pulsed hypnotically, forcing the manager to approach the source of the tapping.

The cabin responded with creaks and the sound of hooves. Slowly, a snout with two huge tusks emerged from the darkness of the building. Or rather, tusks.

A ten-foot boar confronted the intruders. In a second, the beast attacked the humans. William, in a trance, threw himself at the boar while the others froze in shock. A lunge, a struggle, and the clerk grabbed the beast by the tusks. The boar, more like a charging train, seemed to hit an insurmountable barrier. The man's feet sank several inches into the ground, but he did not move. In the next instant, William delivered a blow directly to the animal's forehead, feeling the facial bones crunch and deform. The boar gasped and began to fall to the side. Without hesitation, William continued to deliver monotonous blows until the opponent finally stopped moving.

Standing over the lifeless body, the young man remained motionless. Will was surprised at how easily he had stopped the charging boar, which seemed to weigh more than a ton. He nonchalantly let go of the carcass, and the animal's head fell to the ground. Still in a trance, William stared at the blood oozing from his opponent's crushed snout. The young man reached forward and gently touched the liquid.

This changed everything. The manager's mind was overwhelmed by an irresistible desire, and he plunged his hands into the animal's neck. The seemingly tough skin turned out to be no tougher than foil. The next moment, Will sank his mouth into the boar and drank greedily. With each swallow, he felt an unprecedented power and energy radiate through his body. The feeling of dryness in his mouth disappeared. Images of the boar's life flashed through his mind. Like a fleeting echo from a long trail of sounds, smells, and voices. The blood carried the animal's memory to him, and Will absorbed it along with its life experiences.

The boar had lived in this cabin for three winters. He had never seen any other bipedal creatures, except for strange, hairy little creatures. There, against one wall of the building, was a soft deck that seemed warm and cozy to the animal, and a roof over its head to protect it from the rainy weather. Many trees grew nearby, their roots always providing the tastiest food. A little further away was an entire abandoned village, but because of its size, the beast preferred this place.

Eventually, the feeling of insatiable hunger faded. The clerk turned away from the bloody feast and looked at his group. His friends and the girl with the barista looked back at the manager with undisguised horror. William was on his knees, completely covered in ruby red liquid.

But there was something more in the eyes of those around him - a strange mixture of desire, hunger, and attraction. And these emotions were not directed at him, but at the carcass of the defeated boar. The smell of blood, sweet as nectar, beckoned to them. William saw the crimson liquid being absorbed into his body. He continued to be fed, absorbing it through his skin.

When the young man stood up, there was no trace of blood on his body. The manager felt an unknown power filling him, and his muscles and tendons felt like they were about to burst.

The atmosphere around them began to become threatening. People, seemingly unaware, froze in strange, crouched positions, like animals preparing to pounce. The clerk threw the carcass deep into the building, and everyone present, in a fit of animal hunger, pounced on the food. Some sucked at the wound, others buried their hands in the flesh, draining the animal. From the depths of the building, only crushing sounds could be heard. Soon there were only disfigured scraps of the animal left without a drop of blood.

William stood in the doorway, blocking the passage. He could still see clearly into the room, which was completely devoid of any light sources.

Satisfied, the people just stood there, looking at each other awkwardly. There was confusion in everyone's eyes and a strange satisfaction at what they had done. The head of security raised his hand with an extended index finger, drawing attention to himself. Richard glanced uncertainly at William, then at his companions who had participated in the bloody feast. He took a deep breath and prepared to speak. Everyone froze, expecting some sort of tirade.

After a brief silence, Richie finally opened his mouth:

"What the fuck?"

"Ugh, what else could we expect from you?" George spat disappointedly on the wooden floor. "Was it just me or did everyone see the life of the boar and feel his experiences?"

The others nodded in shock. As the blood digested in their bodies, the memories of the victim continued to be absorbed into their minds.

One girl stepped forward, unsure.

"What was that? Why did we jump on him so hard, sucking like... like vampires?" Vampires. William, who had been able to watch the quick and brutal feeding from the sidelines, analyzed what he had seen. The name for what was happening came to him naturally - a feast of bloodsuckers.

The manager looked down at his fist. Anyone who had ever fought knew that it wasn't just the person who got hit who got hurt. Hitting someone in the forehead, for example, usually resulted in at least some broken skin on the knuckles. At worst, you'd be looking at broken fingers.

Will landed a blow or two on the boar's massive skull, which had the consistency of stone. But surprisingly, his fists were completely intact. He looked at the remains of the beast and approached it. Opening the boar's mouth, he grabbed the nearest tusk and pulled it out with little effort. With his left hand, he pressed down on the sharp tusk, which penetrated the skin with great force. Raising the wounded hand to his face, Will watched as the wound slowly healed, first contracting and then closing completely. Within seconds, his hand looked perfectly healthy. He clenched his hand into a fist several times to make sure it was fully restored.

"I think we really are vampires," he said softly.

His words were met with a deadly silence. William noticed that the usual voices and sounds of people that filled the forest had completely disappeared. Only the sounds of nature remained, and something else. Instead of screams and curses, his ears heard the sound of footsteps. Hundreds of naked human feet approached.

"Blood," William whispered. "They come for the smell of blood."

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The portrayal of William and the Boar in the first textbooks

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