* * *

I woke up from the cold, clawing at my left side with its toothless mouth. It just squeezed, unable to bite, but that didn't make it any easier either. No, the teeth were there as soon as I moved. Countless needles jammed into my skin, forcing me to freeze in place. Cold is not happy that his prey has suddenly decided to run away. But I'm not his prey anymore. I could bite anyone! Not personally, of course. I'm not a wild man. I've got an iron jaw for that now.

I had to get my strength up and ignore the pain, so I climbed over the warm bear cub - it turned out I had somehow settled between them, though I remembered falling asleep at the very edge. It is understandable - the bears are warm, but the ground has let me down. It's completely cold. I felt the edge of the trailer, pulled myself to it, and rolled over. I lay there, looking at the thousands of stars, big and small, trembling with cold, like me.

Cautiously, cringing from the tingling all over my body, I got to my feet and slowly did my exercises. Gradually the cold and pain went away, and only a hedgehog lodged itself in my chest, making me wrinkle in deep breaths. With my eyes, I found the trolley, part of which peeked out from behind the trailer, and carefully retrieved the cubs, stacking them next to their main means of transportation. The cubs were still asleep, but both made an attempt to eat my hands - I had to wrap my arms around them for nothing. Hungry, I guess. I'm definitely hungry, and I'll be that way until morning. The boarding school has long ago eaten an afternoon snack and supper... the command "lights out" flies across the floors, and the boys sleep in warm beds, saying good night to each other. Good for them... I wonder who remembered me? Hardly. Except for that Mashk sadly looks out my window, waiting for a cutlet. He'll be hungry tonight, just like me.

Putting the trolley on the wheel, he rolled along the path, lit by the bright light of the full moon. It had been hiding behind the carriage the whole time. Even so, it was dark, especially under the trees and on the narrow paths. Not a single light on around. The zoo is asleep. True, not all of it. Sometimes I would catch someone else's attention, freeze and stare back - interesting, after all - and the yellow specks of gaze would turn away, losing interest.

I made my way back easily, and after a while, I found myself back where it all began. There was a huge cube with bright lights. The night had obscured the glass facets, making it seem as if the fireflies had gathered and shaped themselves into such a beautiful shape. But the slow, wistful movement betrayed their lack of freedom. Tigers, giraffes, and other animals moved in the same way behind the bars of the zoo - free only in the enclosure as if they had forgotten how to move quickly. But I have taught the tigers to move.

"They tried to kidnap me today too," I complained to the lights, pressing my nose against the glass.

From here, looking upwards, there seemed to be a lot more lights. Only some of them were not moving at all for some reason... Oh no, that's...! But then inside...! A deafening realization roused everything in me, making me rise sharply to my feet.

"They stole the stars!" I was indignant, clenching my fists tightly.

There is no crime worse!

"I'll set you free," I promised, sniffing and wiping away a tear.

I rolled the trolley with the cubs away, wrapped my arms in the gift, and slammed it against the glass with force. The cube shuddered, groaning audibly, but it stood.

"Well, yes!" I accepted the challenge angrily.

But immediately I calmed down. Anger is bad. Curiosity...

"I wondered if I could do it this way...." Scratching the back of my head, I put my hand on the edge and let the power flow through it.

The stars immediately rushed towards me, clinging to my palm and squeezing into a little sunshine.

And now it's like this!

Biting my tongue in excitement, I stretched out my other hand and enveloped it with the Power of Blood, then slowly and carefully created a bridge between my palms.

"And there you go!"

I tried "lighting the light bulb" in my free hand, drawing power from my left, but using only my gift.

First, a ribbon of light and then a flood of lights bloomed in the air around me, illuminating the park with the light of a new day. A good and free day! There was no one left in the cube, I noted with pleasure, stretching my muscles and shaking off the stars sticking to my hands with one gesture.

"Cheers, everyone!" I waved to them.

Only they were in no hurry to leave.

"All right," I shrugged, and I put the trolley on the wheel and headed for the exit. Along the suspiciously bright paths.

"Hey, that way," I paused, pointing my finger at the cloud of lights in the sky. But they were not at all impressed, continuing to fly overhead with their familiar slowness. "Alright, but only as far as the exit!" I gave up on the unexpected companions.

In general, it's handy: it's light, and one can go around bumps.

So we reached the gate quickly. The gate was tall, wrought iron, locked, with a huge padlock on a chain.

"So, what to do?" I asked the bears, but they were treacherously asleep. And the stars are not talking at all - no "thank you" or "hurrah" from them.

I glanced to the left, and there was also a fence, a continuous arrow, sometimes hidden behind the trees. I looked to my right and, to my relief (I was already getting ready to climb a tree with bears), I found a small gatehouse nestled under a sprawling birch crown. I reached closer and managed to peep through the window, though when I was the last step closer I knew for sure that someone was there - the sound of snoring was so loud that the windows trembled. An old bearded man was dozing in the glow of the stars, covered by a gray rug. Next to him, on the table, gleamed a tall bottle, the kind that Uncle Sergei liked to carry around in his first weeks, and a faceted glass. In their shadow hid a plate of two green cucumbers. My stomach growled treacherously, demanding, if not the key to the gate, at least one cucumber.

I walked around and pulled the door - it was locked. I'll have to wake him up.

"Hey, good night," I banged on the window, trying to get attention. It didn't work. He snorted louder than I shouted.

"Okay, attempt number two," I hummed, applying force to my hand, and after a moment, I could already feel the living sun in it.

I folded my palm in a boat shape, concentrated the glow into a narrow beam, and shone it directly into the face of the man sleeping in the gatehouse.

"Get up!" I shouted as best I could.

"Oh, what?!" The watchman called back frantically, immediately tangled in the plaid, and collapsed on the floor.

"Open the gate, please."

A sleepy face appeared in the window, peering out blindly.

"Who is it?!" shouted the old man more fearfully than sternly.

"Emperor Maximus."

"Ahh..." he said, mouth open and shut.

He was the one who saw me, standing with the cart in a cloud of brightly shining stars.

"Oh, that... what's in the trolley?"

"It's the cubs. They were a present to me," I explained patiently. - I'm taking them home.

"Well... you can't take the beast home, can you?" he muttered as he finally climbed out of his gatehouse.

"These little ones."

"They are small now. Then they will grow up." Turning around and rubbing his eyes, the old man reached the gate and jangled the keys.

"Are you sure?" I hesitated.

"So... there's no such thing as small bears." And the gate creaked.

"Geez..." I got all upset, having no idea what to do with such enormous things in a couple of months. I have no idea where to put them in the gymnasium. They say there is a goat there - but I have never seen it - and they even jump over it. It's all right. They'll run from the bears now. It's good for them too.

The hero mistook a piece of gymnastic equipment over which one jumps and a real goat.

"I wouldn't lie to the Emperor," he bowed and held the gate open, letting me pass.

Except when I was passing by, he decided to poke me with his finger for some reason, and I barely dodged it. He was strange but a good one.

"Thank you!" I thanked the kind uncle.

"I knew the drink was spoiled!" He retorted.

I'm telling you, a weird one.

The huge park ground, packed with people and cars in the morning, now looked empty. Only seven cars were sleeping in the middle, huddled together, two or three at a time. In the distance, occasional cars flew by, not even thinking of stopping or turning in my direction. I had no idea how to get home. Eh. The gate clanged shut behind me, closing the park and the chance to sleep at the gatekeepers.

"Well, we mustn't stand still till morning," I shrugged and pushed the cart briskly towards the road, missing the treacherous roadside with the steep slope down it. I held the cart in place with my heels, but I flew straight into the bushes, having released the iron arms in time; otherwise, I would have gone with the bears.

"Damn!" With a shriek, I broke through the low trees with my back, caught between some particularly sprawling bushes.

The lights immediately flew towards me, lighting up the thicket around me, but there was nothing to be seen anyway - just branches to the right and left. And a hare... A hare!

"Hello," I said politely to the huge long-eared one. "Nice evening, isn't it?"

It was just that he was wearing a shirt with a red bowtie and I thought he was a very polite and cultured hare.

"My name is Maxim and yours?" I gave him my hand and gently touched his paw.

Cool, hard, with a short nap. And completely lifeless - toy-like.

"Who threw such a miracle away?" I wondered, twisting on the spot to get a better look. And even the lights flew closer.

The hare looked less festive in the bright light - his shirt and trousers were stained with moisture and leaves, his bow tie was sadly hanging down, and there was a lot of debris stuck in his fur, but the hare did not look broken or spoiled. His ears... his ears, tail, paws - all in place, even his antennae - and they were in pairs, not torn, just bent slightly in different directions.

"It's up to you, but we're going to my place," I told him confidently.

After breaking back through the bushes, I carefully placed the find next to the bears - and the sight of it made me feel so warm! Not even the gift, but the perfect filling of the cart with goodness - there was only room for two or three hamsters. "Hm," I looked carefully into the bushes and ducked fishily into the depths. What if it is?

I came out back in branches and foliage, a little disappointed. There is no such thing as perfection in the world - as the labor mentor used to say, looking at a box of methylated spirits.

"Now it's home," I announced the program and rolled onwards briskly.

I stopped only ten paces from the road when the lanterns were sufficiently lit, and there was no longer any need for the star cloud to illuminate me. I had already been shown today how dangerous it was to be different and unusual, so I didn't want to go out with the fireflies to people. But there was no way to call them off either - they did not want to fly to the sky, and I did not want to swear and shout at them myself. They were beautiful, so why offend them? So I applied the force to the area under my T-shirt, where all the little stars became a luminous lump. However, it still shone through - so brightly, as if there was no fabric at all. Hmm, curious! Just in case, I looked around and made the letter S on my chest, enclosed it in a triangle with a corner underneath, and smoothed my T-shirt with a shining sign on it. Another thing!

Then, with a sigh, I hid the lights in my fist, or they'd ask me to save the world, and my cat wasn't fed yet.

I shook my head at the road, trying hard to remember where we were coming from, and strode resolutely down the street, trying to put my feet up high because it was colder otherwise. The only thing was that the cars were slow to stop, and there were no buses at all, so after a while, the street ended, but two new ones began - similar, like a right and a left hand. I scratched my head with my left hand and headed in that direction. As it turned out, not for nothing! At first, I heard soft music, and then, round the corner by a house, I saw a brightly lit car with ajar windows and an uncle in the front seat. But the main thing was the checkers! Not the ones to play with, but the black-and-yellow ones that shine. Taxi!

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I hurriedly wheeled the trolley closer and headed for the driver's window. The car reeked of warmth as if the car were part of my room, and all I had to do was open the door and...

"What do you want, kid?" The driver grumbled unkindly, giving me a suspicious look.

"Can you drive me home?" I exhaled my hope.

"Do you have any money?"

"Of course!" I flicked the lights to my heel, rustled the papers, and looked at the man. He looked angry, and I took out the ugliest one, the green one. "Here."

"Get in," the driver said for some reason, fidgeting with his seatbelt.

I guess the angry ones like pictures like that more.

"Only I'm not the only one," I warned at once.

"Who else?" he twisted his head.

"I'll be right there!" I rushed to the cart, picked up the hare, and brought it to the window. "There! And two more bears."

"Oh, I see. We'll put it in the baggage compartment."

"You can't put it in the baggage," I resented.

"All right, customer," grinned the man, snapping the lock on the back door with his left hand, "get them in. Just hold on to them. They'll fall off."

"Yeah," I nodded cheerfully as I put the bunny on the seat and dashed back.

"So big," commented the driver as I struggled to place the bear cub next to the hare. "The third one is in the front seat. There's not much room in the back."

"One moment!"

Another run and the sleepy bear settled on the grey fabric of the seat.

"Put the seatbelt on," he glanced indifferently as he started the engine.

I found the belt but did not where to fasten it. But the main thing was to keep it in place, wasn't it? So I leaned over the seat and tied it to the driver's belt at the very bottom - tightly with two knots! Now it would not go anywhere.

"We can go!"

"The address?" The eyes in the mirror above the steering wheel looked up at me.

"Upper Novgorod boarding school."

"Money up front," his eyebrows furrowed over his eyes.

The man stared at the crisp green paper for a couple of minutes, glancing at me from time to time, but then he seemed to calm down and tucked the sad green man into his pocket.

"I didn't paint it," I denied that it was a shoddy job. Just one paint! Even I have two felt-tip pens.

The driver stopped abruptly before he could reach the steering wheel and pulled out the note again. This time he even licked and chewed on the edge.

"Don't joke around like that," the man threatened, turning the key under the steering wheel.

The car purred like a satisfied cat, and we dashed out onto the surface of the black road river.

"Is it hard to drive?" I asked solidly, sticking my head between the seats and watching the road obey the movement of the steering wheel.

"Not this one. Automatic gearbox," the man said, unclearly but impressively, as he turned to the left.

"Is it shooting?"

"No, it's not even crunchy."

"It's broken, isn't it?" I felt sorry for my uncle. What's the point of having an automatic rifle that doesn't fire?

There is a play on words here.

Automatic gearbox - automate - machine gun.

"No, it's work," the chauffeur grudgingly muttered. "It's not supposed to fire. It means it shifts gears by itself, without a stick."

"We used to use a stick to change programs too, but then we got a new TV with a remote control. It's bad for you, isn't it?"

It's just that he was moaning in some painful way. So I thought...

"No. I feel fine," he said on an exhale and turned up the music. It was a mistake: I had to shout now - otherwise, I couldn't hear it.

"What's that for?" I barked in his ear, curiously pointing my finger at the arrows and numbers just beyond the steering wheel.

"Shit!" The car swerved and stopped. "Keep quiet or I'll let you off!"

I had to nod a lot and sit down in a far corner. It's all right, I'll remember it anyway - it's interesting, isn't it?

The new problem, though, is that a bear woke up in the backseat and was clearly planning to have dinner with a hare. I could barely save him by replacing the hare with my own hand - I'd rather let him eat it. The bear was disappointed in such an occupation and bellowed in spite of my requests to behave decently. Though the radio was playing a song about wolves and the chase, so it turned out beautifully.

"Can't you go any faster because the bear misses his brother?" I asked politely, pulling the naughty animal away from the upholstery of the front seat.

"What?" the driver looked in the mirror incomprehensively, admiring for a while the puffing bear face and my amiable (I tried!) smile in its background. "Mom!" he shouted so suddenly that I managed to pull the bear away and sit it beside me.

The car braked sharply, hitting me and the bear on the head with the seat.

"Not mother, bear," I corrected.

But the man didn't listen, desperately trying to unhook his seatbelt.

"You shouldn't pull him so hard, by the way. You'll wake up the other bear," I said reproachfully.

The chauffeur stopped abruptly and slowly, very slowly, turned his head to the right. To where the other bear was still dozing.

"Is it real?" The man asked with a loud gulp.

"Of course," I shrugged and re-hid the hare again - the car filled with a frustrated roar again.

"Boy... are you... Let me give you your money back, huh? You'll find another car?"

"No, no, no," I said indignantly, "where am I going to find another taxi driver now? I have bears to feed."

"Don't, please," a man's voice trembled.

"But I must, they are my bears."

"Not by me, please."

"So I'm not going to feed you. I'll be feeding by cutlets. Out of meat!"

The driver snorted, choking on the phrase, and fell silent for a long time, breathing heavily.

"D-do you want me to teach you how to drive?"

"Are you serious?" I froze as if afraid to scare off the magic offer. And even the bear cub fell silent as if sensing the moment, frozen with my palm in its mouth.

"Absolutely," the man nodded sharply. "Get in the front seat, and I'll show you. It's easy."

"That's great!" I rejoiced. "Thank you!"

"Come on, get in the front," the driver smiled tautly.

I got out the door, slammed it shut, reopened it, grabbed the hare (barely saved!), and took a seat next to the bear cub in the front seat.

"No, no, no! You can't sit in the same seat together!" The man waved his hands.

I had to take the bear out of its harness and transfer it back to his brother while I screwed myself into the cloth straps in its place. The driver wanted to help me, frantically trying to untie my knot, but I was quicker.

"Where are you going?" I asked, watching the driver try to slide down the seat, trying to repeat my maneuver into his open door, but backward and not very successfully.

"Boy, I have a wife. I have kids," the ribbon-tangled man muttered, fidgeting with his feet on the pavement.

"Good for you," I shook my head as I pulled the hare into my lap, "someone to remember you by. There's no one waiting for me."

"Please! I don't want to die!"

"No one wants to," I shrugged my shoulders in surprise. "So, are you going to teach me? Or will you come straight to my place?" I sharpened my voice.

"One moment," he sniffed coldly, climbed onto the seat, looked at me, then at the fidgeting bears in the back seat, and slowly rolled forward.

He spoke more confidently now, showing me how to drive and what the icons, buttons, and arrows on the control panel (called the dashboard!) mean. In general, I liked him better like that - calm and collected. Except for the occasional glance back at the ball of playful bodies and the shudder of their thunderous roar. And he had stopped acting silly.

Slowly the streets were changing. Signs and pedals, levers and buttons on the steering wheel were becoming clear, and even the bears were quiet again to our quiet business talk. Only the road was not at all recognizable - it was not the road we were driving on to the zoo. But man reassured us that it was some other road, a shorter one.

"I'm a bit lost. I need to ask for directions," he smiled, nodding towards a brightly colored sign saying "Police" over a square building, near which two uniformed men were indeed bored, blowing smoke out of thin white sticks.

"All right," I shrugged.

"Will you help me unbuckle so I can get out," he nodded towards the knot, "I'm having a hard time."

You bet. Uncle Kolya showed me this knot. It's reliable! I wouldn't have fastened a bear with something unreliable...

"There, that it's it." With two sly moves, I loosened the tie and slid the metal buckle through it. "You don't have to untie them; they're coming to us," I nodded toward the men approaching us."

"It's rude," the driver said, fussing over the policemen as if he were his own family. Probably his friends.

"Help!" instead of "Hello!" he shouted, rushing towards them. "He wants to feed me to the bears!"

"Hands up!" the voice of the right-hand policeman barked out to him, and the menacing shadow of a real machine gun rose towards him.

"There are bears out there," he jabbed his finger in the direction of the car but put his hands up.

The black box in the other's hand hissed loudly, wheezing in a man's voice:

"Post two, what have you got?"

"The driver has a delirium [squirrel]," the policeman responded to the box.

Damned driver! He lies and doesn't show his squirrel.

"I'm telling the truth!" he dropped to his knees. "Look inside the car!"

"We'll sort it out. I'm going to have to get him into cuffs and back to the station," the man with the box said, turning on the light and heading toward me.

"Hello," I said politely, cradling the hare in my arms.

"Are you his son?"

"Maybe," I answered cautiously with the truth. Who knows?

"Have you seen the man-eating bears?"

"Nope," I shook my head. Mine are peaceful.

"How long has he been like this?"

"It's one hour," I estimated the time.

"All right, you just sit there..." sighed the man, looking at the seats behind him with the light and finding no one there - of course not, those tomboys had gone down again. "There's no room for you inside anyway."

"I should go home, shouldn't I? I can make it on my own."

Now I know.

"Well," he glanced at his wristwatch, "it's half an hour to the last trolleybus. Do you have any money?"

"Yeah," I pulled a paper out of my pocket.

"Are you sure you're going to make it home? Do you know the address? Do you need a lift?"

How high does one have to lift up to see a boarding school?

"No, no, no," I shook my head.

"Do you have a phone?"

I nodded, pulling out my disassembled device from my pocket for now.

"Here, give it to me." The policeman accepted the phone, deftly slid the parts into each other, waited for the screen to shine brightly, and nodded in satisfaction.

"Keep it on, if anything, zero two, got it?"

"Thank you!" I thanked him sincerely. He's a good man, and he fixed my phone.

"Good bye!"

"Goodbye," I said to him in the back, climbed into the driver's seat, and after a couple of minutes, after turning the key as I had been taught, I was taking the car out on the main road on my own with a feeling of immense pleasure. And nothing complicated! For a second, I thought someone behind me was shouting at me, but I was all the way out in front, with my soul at the edge of the crossing beam of the headlights.

* * *

The moon hung over the surface of the man-made field, ringed with pale pink running tracks, adding a small shadow to every movement of the three teenagers as they conquered lap after lap of the distance measured by their tutors. Long after classes had ended, the stadium lights went out, politely hinting at the late hour, but with a respectable persistence the numbers were inaudible, the sound of breathing was measured, and the sound of running echoed.

They knew no one was watching them, they knew all the video cameras were turned off forcibly, and no one would say a word to them for not carrying out the punishment given in response to their stubbornness and desire to insist on their own. For the average person, a hint is enough to make them run a mile and head for their rooms. But these three could not do otherwise - the word had been given, which meant that if dawn proved more agile than they, they would complete the marathon in the sunlight.

Some would sneer at the nobility's quirks, furtively twiddling their thumbs at such savagery, shrugging off to the manners of an aristocracy incredibly distant from the people.

Whoever was even remotely in touch with the world of the nobility could only sympathize. The word would be fulfilled because it could not be otherwise. Why not? Only the nobles knew, but they had no intention of telling outsiders the reason why. Even long speeches about high dignity and nobility would do. What if they believed it?

The legs were humming, the sweat soaking her shirt, and her unruly hair was clinging to her eyes, not holding on to her headband. Her legs hummed, sweat soaked into her T-shirt, and unruly hair clung to her eyes and wouldn't hold up under the headband. Nika smiled. No, of course, she wanted very much to put on a stubborn face, to bite her lip, to furrow her brow and express, in short, and succinct words overheard from her father's guardsmen, what she thought of the endless race, but her classmates were running just ahead and behind her. Which meant endure, Yeremeeva! Possible allies or future enemies must not see your weakness. You can also remember that they are in the same position and it's even worse for them - there's a girl next to them. But that somehow doesn't make her feel any better at all.

What can one do? The word was given. Even if in the heat of the moment, even if it was not worth it, even if it followed the crowd, and even if the mentor himself is not happy about it now. But the word is given. Of course, it can be broken.... and one can lose some of your power. One can cross out months of training along with the chance of losing the gift altogether. One cannot go against what constitutes the power of the clan and one's essence. One can't go against honor. For lies and meanness, there are servants, CEOs, managers, and referents. An aristocrat's word is worth too much - first and foremost to themselves.

"Nika," Pasha's voice caught up with her, and a second later he was level with the girl, taking the next lane.

"Mm?" she retorted, not wanting to take her breath away. But she burst into an inaudible laugh, trying to translate it into a welcoming smile. Pacha looked very funny: a panda with two dark circles under his eyes, the marks of his encounter with the boy who wasn't here.

Pasha smiled back with a smile that was immediately replaced by mild disbelief and dejection. He realized that he was not the one who was welcome at all. And the question to the pretty girl, to whom he was hesitant to talk, disappeared, replaced by an awkward silence.

"How did that even happen?" Adding participation to her voice, Nika decided to break the ice.

"He exists!" with a fury worthy of a fanatic, the boy proclaimed.

"I know. I saw him, too," she nodded as she ran. "So?"

"Well, I was walking, I was about to go back - I saw him coming. I said to him, "Who are you, anyway?" - And he says to me, "I multiply sorrow." - And then he just hit me!" Pashka complained, panting.

"Why didn't you hold the shields? You know how don't you?"

"I held."

"And he got through?" Nika gasped.

"Not at first..." the boy stretched out without any enthusiasm, already regretting his desire to talk.

"So what happened?" she became seriously interested.

"He said he was curious," the boy averted his eyes, "and hit again."

"And next?"

"Can't you see it on me?!"

"I'm sorry," Nika said apologetically, showing remorse and sympathy.

"They didn't believe me either," Pasha sniffed.

"They believed no one," she nodded towards another runner in front, "but I think the principal has a point."

"Dad says - mentors can't change decisions. Unpedagogical! And... Dad says there's nothing dishonorable about what happened."

"Аh?" surprised the girl, realizing that the grown-up eleven-year-old aristocrat was trying to justify his defeat at the hands of a commoner.

"Dad says it was a big joke," his voice lowered as he shared, "he's not an orphanage person at all."

"Then who?"

"Dad says - someone from an Elder Family." Pasha caught the irony in Nicky's eyes and hastened to remove the reference to his father. "We are taught to control the servants... and they are taught to control us. It's not shameful to get a kick out of something like that."

"What kind of family is he from?" Her eyes flashed with curiosity, and she slowed her pace just enough to make the boy feel faster, stronger, and therefore more talkative.

"Do I know?" He shrugged his shoulders. "And Dad doesn't know. It's the Elder Families. They don't show their kids to anyone before they're sixteen."

"What, at all?" Nika was surprised by her voice. "Where do they go to school? At home?"

"Dad says - at the most regular school."

"It can't be," she looked at the boy warily, trying to identify a prank.

"I'm shocked myself," he shrugged again, sharing his surprise.

"The most ordinary one?!"

"Well, Dad says it's going to be a very clean school. But the children are very ordinary. And anyway, if you're walking in the park and it's very, very neat, then maybe one of their kids is walking nearby."

"Wow, you're so smart!" she added with an awkward compliment to her neighbor's blush.

It's just like my mother used to tell me - the simpler it is with men, the more reliable it works.

"Do you think the boarding school will be looking for him?" Pasha nodded forward at the slender, silent figure of their fellow inmate. "I think this one just dreams of seeing him."

"Who knows..." said Nika with a coy smile.

She, too, had time to talk to her father - and he pleased her with the news that the boarding school would be under their patronage as of the next morning. Not out of concern for the nimble boy but in fulfillment of the main principle of the family - the hurried and impetuous must pay to the wise and unhurried.

When one of the parents of the offended children in the park seeks revenge and sets out to administer his vision of justice, he will be gently picked up by the scruff of the neck and his nose will be poked into the humble crest under the name on the new plaque. And attacking what is under the Yeremeyevs' hand is not at all like beating up a commoner. For example, it is more expensive - in the range of ten to twelve million for an "apology". Just enough for the clever eldest daughter, for presents.

"So he wasn't eaten by tigers after all," Nika said, smiling dreamily, summing up some internal conclusion.

"Sure..." Pasha glanced at her jealously. "This one will eat whoever he wants."

"No, he didn't." Wasting all fatigue, the girl instantly picked up speed, overtaking the boys. "The emperor would not harm a tiger."

* * *

Chapter 13

Newspapers tell the truth