Chapter 11

I stared blankly at the stranger, unsure of how to respond. On one hand, it was a relief that he wasn’t a kidnapper or blackmailer. But if he really was who he claimed to be, then there was nothing to be happy about either. His eyes, the irises of which shimmered with a strange blue glow, suggested that he was telling the truth. Still, I decided that proof wouldn’t hurt.

"Maybe you've had one too many, buddy," I said.

"Don’t be an idiot," the guy shot back, grabbing the hundred-dollar bill off the table. "I’ll take this. Could use it to buy some lenses—these glasses are killing me. With eyes like mine, it’s hard to go unnoticed, right? People stare at you like you're some kind of freak."

I nodded dumbly, still at a loss for words.

"By the way, the name’s Rion," he introduced himself. "I’m the one who convinced the judge not to bang that gavel and send your sorry soul straight to hell."

So, there was my proof. Playing dumb any longer would be pointless. No one on Earth knew about the court incident, or how an incredibly skinny guy had shown up just in time to save me.

I looked carefully at Rion.

"The guy at the court," I started hesitantly. "He didn’t look like you."

"What did you expect?" Rion asked, surprised. "No one’s going to create a body that looks like me just for a little trip down here. Though, it wouldn’t be a bad idea. So yeah, I have to borrow someone else’s."

"You stole someone’s body?" I glanced around nervously, hoping no one had overheard that crazy question.

"We’re not thieves," Rion said with a smirk. "Is that what you think of higher beings? We don’t steal—we borrow. And only bodies without owners."

"What does that even mean?"

I was in disbelief. Before, I thought that my rebirth was the ultimate miracle of miracles. But no. Speaking with a living representative of the higher powers that govern humanity—that was the real pinnacle. Even though his appearance could spell serious trouble for me.

"That means the dead," Rion clarified. "Those who died recently. This one was shot last night."

Rion opened his shirt to reveal a bullet hole in his chest. I grabbed my glass and took a large gulp of beer.

"Right in the heart," he added. "He was lying in the morgue until I picked him up."

"Did he live with those eyes?" I asked.

"Noooo," Rion grinned. "Ever heard the saying 'eyes are the window to the soul'? Well, that’s just my soul showing. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Why do you think you were allowed to be reborn into your own body?"

"To do what I’m supposed to?" I recalled Rion's words from the courtroom.

"So, why the hell aren’t you doing anything? Sure, you saved your parents, Dan, helped hundreds of kids, but that has nothing to do with your true purpose. Only Trofim matters."

"Who?" I was confused.

"The guy who invited you to his cigar club. But instead of meeting him, you’ve been busy doing who knows what."

"Meeting him is my destiny? That’s a joke, right?" I asked, bewildered.

"Do you think I’d risk just showing up here for a joke?" Rion snapped. "Even though I’ve been assigned as your guardian, we’re not supposed to meet like this."

I sighed deeply and stayed silent.

"Listen carefully," Rion continued. "Tomorrow morning, go see Trofim. Smoke cigars, chat. He needs to become your best friend. Pay attention to any ideas that come to mind, and if you feel the urge to act on them—even the most outrageous ones—do it. No doubts."

"I don’t understand. What exactly am I supposed to do? What’s going to happen?"

"Do I have to spell everything out for you? You’re lucky I’m explaining anything at all. No one else gets this kind of help. They have to figure it out themselves. The difference is, they just didn’t have enough time in one life. So they were reborn to finish what they started. But you haven’t even begun after two lives. The first time, you chose robbing a factory over the meeting. Now, you're busy with revenge…"

"Others?" I interrupted. "Has anyone else lived their life again?"

"Plenty have," Rion replied. "And they still are. Do you think you’re the only special one? Tesla lived six lives before he fulfilled his duties. Einstein—four. Gates is on his second, and this time he’s doing well. The list is long. Every second millionaire on the planet has been reborn. How do you think they reached such heights? Without the 'White Archive,' humanity would have collapsed ages ago."

Rion abruptly stopped and leaned back in his chair. From the look on his face, it seemed he regretted saying that.

"What’s the White Archive?" I cautiously asked.

Rion shook his head slightly. Then, rubbing his forehead, he looked up at the sky, as if seeking permission to speak. I glanced up too but saw nothing unusual.

"Fine," Rion said. He paused, thinking again, apparently deciding whether or not to continue. "Fine," he repeated, then hesitated once more, choosing his words carefully. "'The White Archive' is a list. It's a register of special people. The drivers of progress. Thanks to them, the world becomes a better place. If they don’t fulfill their duty on the first try, they’re given a second, third, even a fifth chance. Some make significant contributions, others not as much. But you—you’re meant for the big leagues. A lot depends on you, understand? Only you can accomplish what this planet needs."

"Stop talking in riddles," I interrupted. "What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"You’re starting to annoy me," Rion said, agitated. "I’ve already told you more than I should have. Tomorrow, you’ll go see Trofim and become friends with him. You’ll figure everything out as it happens. It’s not a guardian’s job to give you a brain."

Rion abruptly stood up and put his glasses back on. I stood up too, unsatisfied with his response.

"So, what is a guardian supposed to do?" I asked.

"Make sure things don’t get too bad for you."

"And where were you when I was thrown in prison for five years, when they were trying to kill me? Or when I was shot at while driving? Or when a bullet went through my skull? Was that not bad enough?"

"Guardians are only assigned after a mishap. You blew your first chance, and that’s when I showed up. Do I need to remind you where you’d be right now if the judge had struck that gavel?"

"If I’m in the 'White Archive,' how did I end up in court in the first place?"

"Mistakes happen, even there," Rion glanced skyward again. "And people like me exist to fix them."

"You know what? I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not making friends with anyone. You’re not telling me what’s really going on because it’s bad. I can sense that much. What happens if I complete this mission? Death? Or something worse? And why me? Couldn’t they find anyone else?"

Rion took off his glasses again and glared at me. Then, glancing around, he noticed some passersby staring at us—my shouting had drawn their attention. He sighed deeply, his expression softening.

"Sit down," he said.

We returned to the table. From the corner of my eye, I saw the passersby moving along, no longer interested since there was no fight.

"I have no idea why it’s you," Rion began, lowering his voice. "But those in charge aren’t idiots," he looked skyward once more. "Every person is unique. If they chose you, it means your mind can generate ideas that others never would, at least not in this specific moment in time."

"What happens if I fail?"

"You’ll be reborn again and again until you get it right. We know how to wait. The result is all that matters."

Rion said this with a look on his face like he was trying to scare me. But it had the opposite effect. I felt immortal, and I liked it. An endless, rich life—what could possibly be frightening about that? By the time I grow old, I’d be dreaming of becoming young again, and my wish would always come true. Plus, I could pull all sorts of new knowledge from the distant future and use it in my next life to my advantage. And let’s not forget the delightful perks—another first love, my first million, and, of course, finally destroying that guy in Yana.

Mulling it over, I looked at Rion.

“Well, I’m happy with everything. Right now, I don’t plan on changing a thing. Let’s talk business in a couple of lifetimes, if I ever get bored of being immortal.”

I got up, ready to leave. This time, it was Rion who didn’t want to let me go. He jumped up after me and blocked my path.

“Are you really such a selfish bastard that you’re willing to let millions of lives go down the drain just so you can keep having fun?”

“Millions, you say?” I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know… maybe someday, if I figure out what’s actually expected of me… But for now, unless you’ve got more to say, I’ve still got time to catch the end of a charity gala. Today’s news calls for a celebration.”

“You stubborn idiot,” Rion snapped. “By tomorrow, you could already start making history as the man who brought peace to the world.”

I swear, I thought our conversation was over and was eager to leave. I didn’t want to keep another gorgeous woman from enjoying my company. But Rion’s statement made me freeze.

“What?” I asked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.

“Exactly what you think,” Rion confirmed. “Your mission is to lead a group of people who will later grow into a global organization. Through your efforts, they’ll infiltrate the governments of almost every nation and bring about a century of peace. This period will be called ‘The Golden Age of Rutis.’ In a world without wars, humanity will be able to take a giant leap forward in its development. Do you see the connection? All the good that happens on this planet during that time will partly be because of you.”

For some reason, I found the whole thing hilarious. The idea of being the person who brings peace to the world just didn’t click. To be completely honest, I couldn’t even imagine what "peace" would look like. Rion’s words sounded like total nonsense.

“So, you’re telling me to believe that a utopian world could actually exist?” I asked, finally stopping my laughter.

“Everything that exists now was considered a utopia just two hundred years ago. If you’d told someone back then that a ton of iron could fly through the sky, they would’ve burned you at the stake for insanity.”

“Not the best comparison. I... I really don’t know what to say to you.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Just start relaxing at the cigar club. And talk more with Trofim. That’ll be your starting point.”

Whether Rion was telling the truth or not, I had already made my decision. One life simply isn’t enough to enjoy all the pleasures it has to offer. Someday, I’d probably have my fill of them. But not now. Right now, all I could think about was how sinful it would be to pass up the chance to live for a couple hundred years for my own amusement. And after that? We’ll see.

“Sorry, Rion,” I said after weighing all the pros and cons. “One day, I’ll do what’s required of me. Save the world, become the people’s favorite, and all that. But not in this life.”

I never thought that phrase would hold such literal meaning. With all seriousness, I gave Rion one last look, then turned and walked away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he shouted after me.

But I didn’t stop. My fears about Rion turned out to be groundless, fortunately. And his appearance had actually made my life even better. More... secure, in a way. This day could rightfully be called the best in both my lives.

It was time to pack up and change countries. My business in this one was successfully concluded.

Chapter 12

Age: 26

It's hard to believe, but my life has become even better than it already was. You’d think it couldn’t get any better, right? Well, it could. After meeting Rion, everything took on even more vivid and incredible colors. And no, it wasn’t just because I felt immortal, though that was part of it. I had finally reached the point where I could experience something truly new—on a grand scale.

Let me explain. You might start yelling, “But you’ve already seen so much! You’ve seen the whole world, tried everything!” And that’s true. But in my last life, by the time I was 26, I’d already been behind bars for a year. You see what I’m getting at? In this life, by the age of 25, I hadn’t had the chance to see a new movie or hear a new song—nothing fresh, just endless reruns. But now, for a whole year, I could go to the cinema and have no idea how the movie would end. I bought music albums, went to concerts of future and current stars, and watched live football matches for the first time.

Even while in prison, I hadn’t completely lost touch with the outside world. Sure, no one ever visited me. My friends had turned their backs on me—after all, I’d stolen their paychecks. And I didn’t have any family left. But my cellmate did, and through him, I found out everything I needed to know: championship winners, rising stars, political news, and more. Rumors about blockbuster movies reached me too, and those were what I started producing once I got into the film industry.

Becoming a producer of something significant isn’t easy—competition is fierce. But everything’s easier when you have a ton of money. The key is to make the right connections, which I did by attending several high-profile events. I had learned how to charm people and turn those relationships into personal gain. In the film business, practically everyone does it. Actually, that’s how things work in any business.

Over the past year, I produced three big-budget films, investing a total of about $100 million. The first of them was recently released and made me a fortune. Just from that movie alone, I recouped my entire investment several times over.

At the same time, I was also investing in real estate. For that, I chose the rapidly developing United Arab Emirates. I spent $300 million and became the owner of several upcoming estates, a co-owner of a theme park, an underwater hotel, and a few artificial islands. One of the stories with the islands is a special one—a sheikh decided to build some in the shape of his own portrait. I jumped at the opportunity and bought the "eyes," "nose," and "mouth." I owned the face of a sheikh!

The returns from my investments promised to be astronomical.

In addition to everything else, workers had completed the construction of a luxurious mansion on my private island. I hired a large security team and a full staff to manage the estate. I named the island “Fortress,” and the mansion—“Palace”! Even though I didn’t visit it as often as I wanted to, every time I stepped off the yacht onto the island, I felt like a king. In essence, that’s exactly what I was—a king of life. An immortal one.

As I had promised myself, I hired real bodyguards—not actors this time—and a proper head of security. If you're curious about what happened to Jan, I honestly have no idea. The "hallucinations" that visited him every evening completed their work after a month, reporting back to me on their final round. I then made sure that Jan received the video where two burly guys were “handling” him, and from that point on, I was completely absorbed in my affairs. I wish I could have seen his face as he watched the video. Maybe someday I’ll check in on him, but for now, I have more important things to handle.

Aside from “work,” if you can call producing movies actual work, I was still heavily indulging in my leisure activities. To avoid repeating myself, I’ll highlight the two most unique experiences I had over the past year.

While in prison in my past life, I remembered hearing news about a massive meteorite that fell in Turkey. Specifically, it struck on the first day of summer at the world-famous Cleopatra Beach. The meteorite hit late in the evening. Fortunately, there weren’t many people on the beach at the time, except for a guy walking his dog. He became the first recorded person in history to be killed by a meteorite.

There was no way I was going to miss witnessing such a spectacle—by that, I mean the meteorite’s fall, not the guy’s death. Especially since I knew the exact date and location. So, I grabbed my latest beauty-of-the-moment and set off for Turkey. I rarely traveled alone. Everywhere I went, I brought along security and a beautiful woman, just to keep things interesting.

The beach stretched for a couple of kilometers, and I settled right in the center, prepared to witness the marvel. I even spotted the guy with the dog, out for his walk. Well, I thought, at least in this life, the guy wouldn’t be hit by a meteorite. I called over Greg, the head of my security, and asked him to shoo the guy away. Greg was a bit surprised but followed my orders.

And then, around midnight, it appeared. A chunk of cosmic debris, about the size of a ball, descended from the sky with a faintly visible tail, crashing just a few hundred meters from where we were. I'll admit, it wasn't exactly the spectacle I had hoped for. Still—it's a meteorite! I ordered my security team to climb down into the large crater and chip off a hefty piece for me. In the end, I saved the guy and scored an incredibly expensive rock, which I placed inside a glass cube on a pedestal in the lobby of my "palace."

The second unique vacation was even more extraordinary because it didn’t take place on Earth. That’s right—not on Earth! In space! More precisely, in low-Earth orbit. I went alone for this one. It wasn’t cheap—the trip cost me $40 million, plus another $15 million for a spacewalk. While I floated in my spacesuit outside the ship, I even managed to catch sight of a piece of space debris hurtling past at insane speed. If it had hit me, I’d be dead. But the trip went smoothly. I'm not sure if I’ll ever have a more thrilling experience than that.

Nearly every day, in addition to my usual profit-making ventures, I regularly attended various events. In America—oh yes, I had moved to the States! Specifically, to a penthouse in the heart of Manhattan. Now, charity galas and other social events were held there on a much grander scale than anywhere else. They attracted far more people, which meant for me—far more beautiful women, one of whom would inevitably leave with me.

On a warm spring day, with nothing unusual on the horizon, I was once again preparing to "hunt" and donate some money to charity. I nearly made a huge mistake—I completely forgot about something important that required my attention. Fortunately, my mother reminded me during a phone call to check on how she and my father were doing. By the way, my parents had refused to leave their homeland, so we communicated rarely, and saw each other even less frequently.

During our conversation, my mother casually mentioned my godmother, who, that very evening, was preparing to fly off on vacation with her husband to celebrate her birthday. At first, I didn’t pay much attention to the information. Then, it hit me. I was 26—the same age I had been when my godmother died in a plane crash. Meaning, the accident would happen in the next 24 hours.

I resolved the issue with the same speed I usually used to charm women. I asked my mother for my godmother's number under the pretense of wanting to congratulate her. Then, I called her and acted outraged that she was flying to Egypt when I had already arranged for a private jet to take her to the Seychelles as a birthday gift. After a brief argument, my godmother gave in, promising to return the vacation package and accept my present.

Once we hung up, I immediately contacted my pilot and gave him an urgent task. Then I instructed my assistant to book the most luxurious suite in the finest hotel on the Seychelles, ensuring my godmother would have a memorable and relaxing holiday. Just like that, I saved her life.

Feeling like a hero, I declared that evening a celebration. Naturally, such an evening called for a special companion. Now, it’s not like I ever invited some plain Janes over. No. My bed had never seen anyone below a solid seven. And it’s not that nines and tens were out of my league—far from it. It just took more time to get from meeting them to hearing them say, “Let’s go.” With experience, I learned that sevens and eights weren’t much different, but they were a lot easier. Their “let’s go” always came sooner. So why complicate things for just one night, right?

This time, however, I was after a perfect ten. I put on my best tux, got behind the wheel of my Ferrari, and headed to one of the biggest events of the month. A charity gala, packed with 1,500 high-society types—a place overflowing with stunning tens. I instructed my security to stay out of sight, so they wouldn’t be visible. Handing my Ferrari keys to the valet, I made my way into the building.

At events like this, people usually attend in pairs or families. However, a considerable percentage consists of single women, categorized as follows:

1. a) Those who come to accompany someone, eager to wear their new dress and feel important. They enjoy mingling with men and even flirt, but only 30% of the time do they leave with one.

2. b) The daughters or sisters of wealthy individuals. Approaching them is challenging; they aren’t impressed by status or money. Still, I managed to charm one of them.

3. c) “Hunters.” They come with the intention of snagging a rich partner. They spend the first five minutes pretending to be “different,” but with the right words, they’re ready for anything. A 99% success rate. They are my most frequent guests.

4. d) Tens. Stunning women whose challenge lies in deciphering whether she is genuinely “different” or just playing hard to get. If it’s the former, it’s a lost cause. If it’s the latter, it’s a matter of effort to win her over.

These are the most common categories worth mentioning. There are also unique personalities, such as the young wives of ancient billionaires, who often cheat on their spouses with younger, wealthier men. I’ve steered clear of those, despite their blatant hints. Even for me, that’s a bit much.

I picked up a glass of champagne and joined a conversation with some well-dressed men discussing the latest in cars. The topic was close to my heart, so the conversation flowed easily. Meanwhile, I kept scanning the room for a festive ten.

“Quite the show-off, isn’t he?” said a woman beside me as our small circle of car enthusiasts broke up.

“Excuse me?” I replied.

“Your friend,” she clarified, “who claimed his car could go from zero to sixty in two seconds. I know a guy whose car does it in one and a half seconds. So, your friend is lying.”

She flashed a charming smile and extended her hand.

“Molly,” she introduced herself.

Occasionally, hunters take the initiative themselves, and that’s precisely what was happening here. She was an eight plus, and on any other day, I would’ve happily continued talking to her. But not today. Not on a special occasion.

I shook her hand and smiled back.

“Sorry,” I said, “but it won’t be you tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. I immediately turned and headed toward the other side of the room. I had taken only a few steps when I spotted…

Her.

She had just entered the building, removing her light coat to reveal a stunning figure in a beautiful dress. Her perfect appearance, intelligent gaze, and disarming smile sent shivers down my spine, shouting, “This is it! Your ten!”

A waiter approached her with a tray of champagne glasses. As she reached for one, I noticed her fingers—no ring, she was alone—absolutely perfect. I moved towards her, already crafting my opening line in my mind. I couldn’t leave her unattended for long; plenty of other “hunters” were present. I walked slowly, hoping not to spook her if she glanced my way.

Just as I was about to flash my signature welcoming smile, my recent conversation partner—the show-off who bragged about his fast car—interrupted. I quickly changed course, heading to the right. I could hear him shamelessly trying to charm her with his pretentious banter. This was the consequence of hesitating for just a second.

I paused to observe. He was spewing obvious nonsense, sporting an arrogant grin. No, he didn’t deserve a girl like her; he was barely a five, maybe a five plus at best. After about ten minutes, I noticed her growing increasingly bored—or maybe I was just convincing myself of that. Regardless, on this festive evening, I was only satisfied with the best. And she, more than anyone, deserved that title. So, I placed my empty glass on a passing tray and approached her.

“Excuse me,” I said, addressing the show-off, “didn’t you say you arrived in a silver Mercedes?”

“Yes, why?” he replied, surprised.

“They say a similar one just got badly damaged in the parking lot. You might want to check; it could be yours.”

It seemed my patience in listening to his braggadocio paid off. The guy hesitated, glancing between the girl and me, clearly torn about leaving her with me. Eventually, he excused himself and hurried toward the exit. After all, a car worth three million dollars is a priority.

“Thank you,” the girl suddenly said, “you saved me. He was such a bore, going on and on about his car and cars in general, as if there were no other topics to discuss.”

“Did he mention that his car is the fastest and goes from zero to sixty in two seconds?” I asked.

“Three times,” she laughed.

“I know a few people whose cars are faster. But I didn’t tell him, so I wouldn’t hurt his feelings.”

She laughed again; my joke had landed well.

“Leo,” I introduced myself.

“Ella,” she replied.

And so began our acquaintance. Unlike the show-off, I had far more topics to discuss. We relocated to a different area to avoid running into him and talked throughout the evening. Ella laughed often and seemed to be having a fantastic time. My charisma and good sense of humor were working their magic.

I received my coveted “let’s go” just as the evening was winding down. Ella confessed she had long dreamed of seeing Manhattan lit up at night from a skyscraper. What a coincidence! I happened to live in the tallest building on the island, on the 96th floor.

Before leaving, I made a charitable donation, waved at the show-off who spotted me with Ella, and together we exited the building.

The Ferrari whisked us away to my new luxurious home. Once we reached the penthouse, Ella's wish finally came true. Through the expansive panoramic windows, she was able to take in the breathtaking views of Central Park, the Atlantic Ocean, and the entire metropolis. As we shared a few glasses of outrageously expensive wine, our conversation seamlessly shifted towards more intimate matters, and before long, we found ourselves in the bedroom.

Almost all the knowledge, skills, and habits I accumulated in my past life accompanied me into this one. Some of these I picked up while in prison. Besides the useful traits of courage and resilience, I also developed a surprisingly keen sense of awareness while sleeping. I didn't wake up at the slightest breeze or the soft snoring of my latest girlfriend, but I jolted awake as soon as Ella got out of bed and started walking around the room.

It had been one of the best nights of my life. Ella had definitely lived up to her high rating. For a moment, I thought she was heading to the bathroom, but sensing she was going in the wrong direction, I cracked my left eye open just a sliver. That was enough to see her silhouette moving in the darkness. She circled the bed and paused by the chair where I had carelessly tossed my clothes.

I heard rustling and shuffling, as if she were looking for something. A small object clattered to the floor, and she froze, glancing my way, probably worried I might wake up from the noise. I decided to keep pretending to be asleep. She resumed her search, and after a minute, she straightened up, and I heard a muffled click in her hands.

That click was unmistakable. It could only be the clasp of my wallet. My theory was confirmed when I heard the rustling of bills being pulled from it.

Who would have thought she was robbing me?

I had hosted many girls in this room, but this was a first. And certainly, I never expected such behavior from a ten. I was suddenly eager to catch her in the act. I swiftly threw my hands out from under the blanket and clapped twice. The lights came on immediately—exactly the moment I was glad I had installed that switch. Ella froze in place, holding my passport in her hands. That was what had fallen from my jacket. I hadn’t been without it lately; who knows when I might want to indulge in some fresh French croissants? With my passport on hand, I could catch a flight to Paris right away. It had happened before.

I propped myself up in bed and smiled at the bewildered Ella.

“You didn’t need to worry about the money,” I said calmly. “At the very least, I would have covered your cab ride home. But those couple of thousand you took? Consider it your payment for a wonderful night. You earned it.”

“Go to hell,” Ella shot back, though I never would have guessed she had a rude side.

“By the way, how were you planning to leave the apartment?” I asked, sitting at the edge of the bed. “You know the security won’t let anyone in or out without my permission, right?”

She sighed in frustration.

“I could have just crawled back into bed, and you’d let me out in the morning.”

“Smart. But I don’t think we’re waiting until morning.” I stood up. “You can keep the money, but hand this back.”

I reached for my passport. I didn’t think Ella had any intentions of keeping it. She held the document open at the first page, glanced at it briefly, and began to reach out to return it. But then she hesitated.

“Leo Rutis?” she asked, surprised, staring at the name in my passport.

“Don’t act like you’ve heard of me. I’m not a public figure, and I haven’t been on TV.”

I took my passport back and headed to the closet for my clothes. If Ella had cooked up some clever scheme, I wasn’t about to fall for it.

“I knew someone,” she started. “His name was Leonas. We met when I was six months old. We spent a lot of time in the sandbox, and he used to say he’d grow up and change his name to Leo Rutis. He claimed he started his life over.”

I slowly turned to face her, unable to believe my ears. My jaw dropped in astonishment; she might have thought my expression suggested I thought she was crazy. She gave a tentative smile and looked away.

“Maybe I was mistaken.”

With some effort, I finally managed to squeeze out a single word.

“Latifa?”

***

It turned out that my late-night encounter with Ella hadn’t been so late after all. It all happened in the morning—albeit not the earliest one—thanks to the high-quality curtains blocking out the light. The clock chimed 9 AM when we both headed down to the kitchen, where a prepared breakfast awaited us from my personal chef. We settled down to eat pancakes with jam, exchanging odd glances.

“Seriously, what are the odds of us running into each other after all these years at a charity event?” I began. “How long have you been in this city?”

“Five years,” Ella replied.

“I just moved here a year ago.”

“Well, it looks like you’re doing better than I am,” she said. “I was right about you getting lucky with your rebirth. You’ve channeled your future knowledge in the right direction. How did you escape being baptized?”

“I didn’t. I was baptized. Turns out it didn’t affect me at all.”

Ella took a sip of her juice in silence, seemingly a bit upset by my response.

“So, you live here now?” she asked with a smile. “How many girls have stayed in your bedroom?”

“A few,” I lied shamelessly. “And how many guys have you seduced and then robbed?”

“You were supposed to be my first. Honestly, I didn’t plan to sleep with my mark, but when I saw you, I thought I could combine business with pleasure. You’re not bad to look at, even if your jokes are subpar.”

“You laughed at every one of my jokes!” I protested.

“I had to. The first joke about the show-off’s car was really dumb. The rest weren’t much better.”

I decided not to take her words to heart. I was a great comedian, end of discussion.

“So you’re saying you’re not a thief?” I redirected the conversation.

“You can doubt me, but I left theft behind in my past life. I really need money, and I couldn’t think of a better way to get it. Luckily, I’m better looking this time around.”

“Lucky, indeed. How did you even survive? You were only about ten months old when you escaped.”

“It’s a long story. I’m still trying to survive.”

“If you’re having money problems, I can help.”

“Thirty thousand would be very handy.”

“Do you owe someone?” I asked, surprised.

“If only…” Ella replied thoughtfully, taking another sip of her juice.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Well, maybe you could share?” I pressed on. “Why do you need that much money?”

“To get a new passport and get out of here,” Ella answered quickly.

“Are you in trouble with the law? Hiding?”

“I’d love to chat with you about my problems,” Ella said irritably, “but time is short. Can you help me, or will thirty grand hurt your wallet too much?”

“I can help, but here’s the catch… I like to know where my money goes. Plus, I’m very curious. So, I need details. What have you done, Latifa?”

“First of all, I’m not Latifa. I changed my name right away. And I haven’t done anything. Want to know everything? No problem, listen up.”

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted. It was Greg, who had just walked into the kitchen. “There’s a detective waiting in the hallway who wants to see you both.”

I turned to Ella with interest. Her face went pale with terror. She jumped up and raised her hands to her mouth in fear.

“It’s him,” she said. “He always finds me. I don’t know how, but he does.”

“Nothing done, huh?” I quipped, turning to Greg. “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

Greg left, and Ella rushed over to me, whispering urgently.

“Don’t believe a word he says. He’ll lie about everything. I’ll tell you everything, just get rid of him.”

For a brief moment, I contemplated the trouble Ella might bring me. If it turned out I was harboring a criminal, no amount of money would shield me from the consequences. She wasn’t close enough to me for me to jeopardize my life over her. Yet my conscience wouldn’t allow me to simply turn her in. Weighing the situation, I decided to hear both sides of the conflict.

“Stay here,” I told Ella before stepping out of the kitchen.

In the hallway, I was met by a man who appeared to be around 40, dressed in a cheap suit. I approached him and shook his hand.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning,” he replied. “I apologize for the early visit. I’m Detective Devin Keat,” he said, presenting his badge.

“Well, well,” I said, putting on a mask of feigned surprise. “I was just considering whether to call the police, and here you are. You work fast.”

“Excuse me?” Devin asked, confused.

“I was robbed this morning,” I declared, with no hint of distress, as if the theft didn’t bother me at all. “They took some loose change, a couple of thousand, so I’m not even sure it’s worth filing a report. Here’s my advice: if you bring a stranger home for the night, keep a close eye on her.”

Devin smiled faintly. Despite his friendly demeanor, danger glinted in his eyes. I had seen a similar look in prison—like that of an embittered Siberian Husky. No matter how calm that inmate appeared, he could cripple anyone who crossed his path. Those criminals who didn’t recognize this right away were foolish. While I didn’t plan to fear Devin, he was certainly someone to be cautious of.

The detective powered up his tablet and turned the screen toward me.

“She stayed overnight?” Devin asked, emphasizing the first word.

“Unbelievable. She! Did I mention how well you work? Have you caught her already?”

“If only,” Devin said, turning serious. “I’ve been chasing her for eight years. That’s why I came to ask you a few questions.”

Impressive, I thought. Still, I was curious how he figured out she was in my apartment. I nodded and gestured toward the living room, where I headed first. I sank into the most comfortable chair in the world and offered Devin a seat across from me, but he declined.

“Thanks, I’ll stand. When did she leave your apartment?”

“The security said it was in the middle of the night,” I replied, expertly weaving a lie.

“And they decided not to disturb you?”

“They have strict orders on that. No one gets in, but they can let people out. Maybe you could tell me who I had the misfortune of spending the night with?”

Devin scrutinized me suspiciously, as if trying to read my expression for the truth. Then he clicked on his tablet and handed it to me.

“Her name is Ella Lymova. She’s 26. Eight years ago, she came to Poland and committed a triple murder. Then she traveled across Europe, leaving a trail of bodies behind her.”

I scrolled through images of Ella’s victims. It was hard to believe such a delicate and fragile-looking girl could commit such acts. Yet, serial killers often appear ordinary and unremarkable.

“She’s wanted in many countries,” Devin continued. “Interpol and the FBI are hunting her. Her photo is at every border. She’s a sick psychopath. You’re lucky to have woken up after a night with her.”

I cast a sideways glance toward the kitchen, where Ella was hiding. I was eager to hear her side of the story.

“Well,” I leaned back in the chair, “beauty can indeed be deadly. Which agency are you with?”

“I was hired by a powerful client who lost his family because of this maniac. Local authorities are assisting me in the search.”

“May I ask a question?”

I handed Devin back his device, and he nodded.

“How did you know she was in my apartment?” I couldn’t hold back.

“It’s the 21st century,” Devin smiled. “There are millions of cameras everywhere. We tracked her to the building where the charity event was held, and from there to your home. Facial recognition software told us everything about you, including the apartment you live in.”

“Impressive,” I remarked.

“However, there’s one strange thing,” he said, looking at me with a cold gaze. “I tracked the footage up until my arrival and didn’t see her leave the building. As far as I know, there’s only one exit. It feels like she’s still in this house.”

“Do you think she managed to find another rich guy one floor down in the middle of the night and stayed with him?” I joked.

Devin smirked sarcastically.

“Or she’s too smart to leave through the same door,” I continued. “After all, it’s been eight years since she’s successfully evaded you. Have you checked the underground parking exit?”

“We will definitely check,” the detective replied. “But first, I’d like to inspect your apartment if you don’t mind.” Devin slowly made his way toward the kitchen, glancing around. I hadn’t expected such audacity from him.

“Is there really any point to that?” I maintained my calm.

“It’s standard procedure; it’s what the order requires. I doubt I’ll walk into the kitchen and find her sipping tea at the table.” Devin tried to sound light-hearted, but I sensed he genuinely hoped to find Ella in the kitchen. If that was the case, his hopes had a good chance of coming true. “Two of my colleagues are waiting in the lobby. They’re police officers and will help expedite the search. Your apartment isn’t small.”

Devin leisurely crossed the living room and was just a few steps away from the kitchen entrance.

“I’ll be happy to assist you,” I said, rising from my chair. “Do you have a warrant?”

Devin halted right before the archway leading into the kitchen. If he took two more steps, Ella would be caught. He turned to face me, and it seemed he was doing his best to hide his frustration, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Mr. Rutis,” he spoke in a tone that sounded threatening. “I can obtain a warrant within an hour. Is it really necessary for searching an apartment where you’re hiding no one?”

“I’m not sure how things work in Poland,” I replied, slightly smug, “but here, a warrant is required to search someone else’s property. It’s the law. After all, we’re law-abiding citizens, aren’t we?”

“I hope you realize,” Devin began, his tone becoming overtly menacing, “what consequences hiding a dangerous criminal could entail?”

“And who in their right mind would hide an unknown murderer?” I smiled. “Surely not a multimillionaire with much to lose, right?”

From the outside, our conversation could have been interpreted as follows:

* Devin: She’s here; I know it. I’m too smart.

* Me: She might be, but I won’t let you step into my kitchen out of spite.

* Devin: Better turn her in willingly, or you’ll regret it.

* Me: Go get your warrant and then try to show off. If you can prove anything.

Devin glared at me, but I kept a confident demeanor, refusing to break eye contact first. I thought that if we were in prison, a brutal fight would have broken out by now. The detective shot a quick glance at the kitchen, then back at me.

“I’ll see you in an hour,” he smiled and headed for the exit.

“I doubt I’ll be able to wait for you,” I replied. “I have things to attend to, as you can imagine. But I’ll make sure the security shows you the apartment.”

Devin didn’t spare me a glance as he walked straight to the door without turning back. After seeing him off, I quickly made my way to the kitchen.

“I need to get out of here!” Ella said, looking pale when she saw me. “Can you get me out?”

“Tell me everything, now,” I threatened. “Or I’ll turn him in.”

“Do you really believe him? You think I could kill someone?”

“I don’t know you at all. No idea what you’re capable of.”

“My pictures aren’t hanging at the borders. Besides him, no one is hunting me. He’s lying. But if he says he’ll be back in an hour, he will be. We need to leave fast.”

“Then hurry up with your story. No one is leaving this kitchen until you do.”

“Incredible,” she sighed heavily.

“Did you kill all those people?” I asked directly.

“I didn’t kill anyone. My only crime is that I didn’t get baptized!”

“What do you mean?”

Ella stepped back to the table, leaning against it.

“He’s not a real detective, and no one hired him. Yes, he’s a detective, but only to cover up his true activities. He’s enlightened.”

“And who enlightened him?” I replied sarcastically, pondering whether she was crazy and if I should return to Devin. He probably hadn’t made it to the first floor yet.

“The same people who move us from body to body after death,” Ella said seriously. “He’s a priest first and foremost. His main task is to catch the escapees. People like me. Those who avoided baptism and remember their past lives.”

“Maybe you’re not crazy,” I said, recalling my meeting with someone who managed souls.

“He said he’s been chasing you for just eight years,” I remembered. “Before that, you didn’t interest him?”

“Do you know why we get baptized?” Ella asked.

“And?”

“To keep tabs on us and make adjustments when needed. If you’re baptized, they can find you in an instant. Your fate is controlled. Everyone has their mission, and most people’s mission is to help fulfill someone else’s more successful mission. It’s like sacrificing a pawn for a queen. But the pawn is you. Understand? If you haven’t been dipped in holy water and prayers haven’t been said over you, you’re invisible. You don’t show up on their radar, you can’t be tracked. You live as you wish, building your own fate. But that doesn’t sit well with them. They have a clear plan, and everyone must follow it. The enlightened exist to bring back people like me into their sights.”

“You know, I thought a lot about this after your escape, and it doesn’t add up. There are many religions where people aren’t baptized at all. Do they all live with the knowledge of their past lives?”

“First of all, there are very few people like me,” Ella said, speaking without much pride. “One in tens of millions. During reincarnation, only defective souls retain memories. Secondly, every religion has its own rituals similar to baptism. I don’t know what they are, but I know they exist.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s what he told me,” she replied, hinting at Devin, “when he thought I had nowhere to go. They’ve thought of everything down to the smallest detail.”

“Let’s say that’s true,” I scoffed. “But if you’re invisible, how did he find you?”

“I was foolish. I wanted to return to my past life, to my mother, my friends. Those are the first people the enlightened watch to catch us. They know everything about the past life of an escapee. When I turned 18, I saved up money and found a way to go to Poland to see my mom. But I was two years late; she died. So, I went to her grave. That’s where it all started. They waited a long time for me.”

“They were waiting by her grave?” I was surprised.

“Now that the world is filled with high technology, it’s easier to track us. Set up cameras and wait for us to appear. Once there, it’s all about cunning. Devin arrested me a day later for shoplifting that never happened. Then he fired a barrage of questions at me—who I was, where I came from. And he immediately realized I was the one. I even took a different name. I don’t know how I managed to escape him. Pure luck. I moved to the Czech Republic, but he found me there too. I ran from him all over Europe, barely escaping each time. I finally made it to the States, thought I was free. I even got a job, found a boyfriend. But after five years, he showed up again. He spun lies to my boyfriend, who, of course, believed him, and I was on the run again. This time, I want to escape for good. I have a contact who can help me get a new passport. I’ll fly to some islands where there are minimal cameras. Somewhere he definitely won’t find me. But I need money for that.”

I pondered over the information. It would be foolish not to believe Ella—her story sounded convincing, especially considering what I already knew about higher powers. After meeting Rion, I was ready to believe just about anything.

“I’ll give you as much as you need,” I said confidently. “I have contacts who can get you a passport in a day. Then I’ll put you on my plane and take you wherever you want.”

For a moment, Ella was speechless.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

“First, we need to hide you from the cameras. They’re everywhere in this city. We’ll go down to the underground parking lot, then head to a store where I’ll buy you a burqa.”

Ella nodded, absorbing every word. I stood silently for a few seconds, watching her as if waiting for something.

“How much longer are we going to hang around here?” I suddenly asked. “Your detective will be showing up soon. It’s time to get moving. How long do we need to talk?”

Ella rolled her eyes and smiled sincerely. That was a reminder to myself that I wasn’t a bad joker. Men weren’t supposed to joke like that, anyway. Thankfully, I wasn’t sensitive.

We headed toward the exit, but unexpectedly, Greg intercepted us in the living room.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

“Yes, but there are two cops waiting in the lobby. They said they’d wait for the detective to return. I thought I should let you know.”

“They’re also priests,” Ella explained. “Just lower-ranking ones.”

“Do they have whole sects or something?” I sighed.

“Worse,” Ella replied. “They have representatives everywhere, in all professions. They’re like the CIA, only better.”

“Should we get rid of them?”

“They won’t leave,” Ella interjected. “It’s not worth provoking them; you’d just make things worse. You’d give them a reason to break in here.”

Devin had been a clever guy. I took it as a personal challenge. Helping Ella escape his trap became a matter of principle for me. No one had ever outplayed me in this life, and he had no right to be the first.

I needed a smart plan that would keep me out of future legal trouble. I couldn’t just beat up these cop-priests and leave through the front door. I’d probably get caught. And there was no place to hide Ella in the apartment. How had I not thought about secret rooms beforehand? I’d fix that oversight in the future.

How could I make Ella disappear from my penthouse?

“I have an idea,” I said, devising the most extreme yet effective way. “We’ll throw you off the roof.”

Ella’s eyes widened.

“Call the driver,” I turned to Greg. “Tell him to prepare the van.”

Over my many years of adventure, I had tried nearly every type of extreme pastime. Water, land, mountain, and of course, air. I had bungee jumped, skydived from planes, and even leaped into open space from a spaceship. I had wanted to jump off the roof of a skyscraper, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. You’d think I’d done something similar, but no.

When jumping from a plane, you have plenty of time to enjoy the flight, smoke a cigar, read a book, or even have sex before lazily pulling the cord. But when you leap off a roof, the ground rushes up so quickly that you have time to hate the person who packed your parachute. It doesn’t open immediately, but that’s part of the thrill.

That’s why I kept a parachute in my apartment. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get to use it myself. Instead, it would allow Ella to leave the building in a flash.

Since she had a pathological fear of falling from three hundred meters, Greg agreed to accompany her and manage the entire process—pulling the cord and adjusting the descent.

“This is a terrible idea,” Ella said for the hundredth time. We stood on the roof while Greg strapped her to himself.

“Just remember not to scream after the jump,” I advised. “No need to attract attention too early. And wrap this around your head.”

I handed her a large dark scarf that one of my ex-girlfriends had left in my bedroom. Ella began wrapping her head so only her eyes were visible. If Devin really had access to all the cameras and could run facial recognition searches, the scarf would help conceal her identity.

As a final touch, I gave her dark sunglasses to hide her eyes from the intrusive cameras.

“See you at the bottom,” I said as I left the roof.

With my two bodyguards, I exited the apartment and headed to the elevator. In the lobby, two police officers were waiting on the couch, watching me with suspicion.

“Good luck with your search,” I smiled at them.

The elevator took less than a minute to descend straight to the underground parking garage. Two drivers were already waiting for us there. The first hopped into the driver’s seat of my Jeep and quickly drove off. The second climbed into a nondescript old van with us and didn’t leave for another five minutes.

This maneuver was specifically designed for Devin. If he suspected me, he would undoubtedly start monitoring things when he realized Ella was missing. His lackeys would inform him of my departure time from the apartment, he’d check the parking camera, and see my Jeep leaving. Naturally, he’d watch it all day. Meanwhile, we would pick up Ella and leave the city. I just hoped he didn’t have access to satellites; otherwise, our plan would be ruined.

Once our van hit the street, I immediately called Greg.

“We’re out; jump now.”

“Wait,” I heard Ella’s voice on the line. “I’m not ready yet. Give me a couple of minutes.”

“Grab her and jump!” I shouted.

“No, wait! STOP!” Ella screamed.

I heard her heart-wrenching scream, signaling her transition from “roof” to “free fall.” The scream sounded as loud through the phone as it did outside the van.

“I told you not to scream,” I said, disappointed, and leaned out the window.

Many bystanders on the street looked up, having heard the scream from above. As Greg deployed the parachute while descending, people pulled out their phones to record the daring stunt.

“In five minutes, it’ll be on YouTube. Great,” I muttered irritably.

A minute later, the future Internet stars landed. I waited for Greg to unbuckle Ella, then opened the side door of the van and shouted, “Get in!”

Ella quickly jumped inside and sat across from me.

“Let’s go!” I commanded the driver.

“What about Greg?” Ella managed to ask.

“He’ll catch up; he’ll clean up after you.”

Glancing back, I saw Greg quickly gathering the parachute and rushing off the road. The van picked up speed, swiftly leaving my neighborhood. Ella leaned back in her seat, removed her sunglasses and scarf. Her face had gone pale; she looked like she might faint.

“How are you?” I asked.

She looked at me with a vacant expression and nodded her head. Then she sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes.

“I'm fine,” Ella replied, her tone more confident now. “My soul just took a dive. I'm not too fond of jumping off roofs.”

I smiled.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To my country house. It’s about a 40-minute drive. In an hour, my guy will arrive to take your passport photo. It’ll be ready by tomorrow. By the time the detective figures things out, you’ll be on the other side of the planet.”

We arrived at our destination even earlier than I had mentioned. One of my bodyguards had been sent to the store for hair dye. Half an hour later, dark-haired Ella had transformed into a blonde.

Shortly after, the photographer showed up with a camera and a white backdrop. He had Ella sit on a chair and snapped a few shots.

“When will it be ready?” he asked, glancing at her.

“In about four hours,” I replied.

“Perfect. I have a few more orders, plus I’ll have time to grab a bite.”

“For what purpose?” Ella asked, her worry mounting.

“We’re going to make you a new person,” I said evasively.

Just then, Greg walked in, followed by a girl carrying a square case.

“Hello,” she greeted. “So, you’ll be my subject?” she said, looking at Ella.

“What’s happening?” Ella asked, increasingly anxious.

“This is your makeup artist. In about four hours, you won’t recognize yourself in the mirror,” Greg explained.

“I think it’ll be at least five,” the makeup artist corrected him.

“If you want to disappear for good, we’ll do everything to ensure it,” I began, noticing the confusion on Ella’s face. “You’ll receive two passports. The first will have your photo with makeup, making it impossible for Devin to track you. The second will have a normal photo for traveling abroad; you can’t keep hiring a makeup artist every time.”

Ella made an uncertain gesture, then shrugged, resigning herself to my plan. The makeup artist moved her to the highest stool she could find and opened her case, revealing all the essentials to get started.

Five and a half hours later, I walked into the room and saw a completely new woman sitting in the chair. Not just a woman, but someone who looked over forty. The artist had aged her, drastically changed her facial features, added numerous wrinkles, and placed a wart on her chin. The only thing that gave away her identity was her blue eyes, which were planned to have contact lenses inserted.

The photographer, having waited long enough, quickly took a couple of photos against the white backdrop and left the house. The photo session lasted just a minute, after which the makeup artist looked at Ella and smiled sweetly.

“How do you like your new face?”

“Wow,” she replied, still staring at herself in the mirror. “I need to try not to scare myself with my reflection at the airport.”

“Try your best,” the makeup artist said. “Well, we’ll do it again tomorrow. Now, let me show you how to get rid of it.”

“Do it again? Are you joking? Why would I get rid of it?”

“It won’t last until morning; it’ll smudge and wear off. You can’t sleep in it.”

“The makeup was done for the passport photo,” I interjected. “Tomorrow’s will be for your departure.”

“Do I really have to sit for another five hours?” Ella protested.

“Do you want Devin to keep chasing you?” I replied.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this in front of others?” Ella nodded toward the makeup artist.

I pulled a prepared stack of cash from my jacket pocket and handed it to the artist for her work.

“This is an advance. Come back tomorrow by noon.”

The makeup artist took the money and then helped Ella return to her original look. Removing the makeup took much less time. By the time she left for home, it was getting close to evening. We were quite hungry, but thankfully, Greg had anticipated this and ordered dinner from a restaurant. It was very thoughtful, especially considering our personal chef was still at the penthouse.

Ella and I sat down for dinner while the guards had already eaten and returned to their duties. The first five minutes passed in silence. Just as Ella finished half of her portion, she felt the urge to talk again.

“You’ve probably helped someone disappear before, haven’t you?”

“Not really,” I answered, taking a sip of wine from my glass. “What makes you think that?”

“Everything seems so well arranged. The passport guy, the makeup artist, and you came up with this so quickly, like you’ve done it before.”

“Well, it did happen once. In a past life when I had to flee after a factory robbery.”

“And how did that go?”

“I got caught at the border. Spent five years behind bars.”

“You sure know how to inspire confidence,” Ella smiled.

“In my past life, things never went as planned. This time, it’s different. My plans have been successful since the moment I saved my father from crashing on a motorcycle eight months ago.”

“No way,” Ella said, genuinely surprised.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg…” I said proudly. “What do you think needs to happen for your worst enemy to willingly let you have your way with them?”

“That’s impossible,” Ella replied cautiously.

“I managed it.”

“No way!” the girl laughed. For the first time all day, she seemed to be in a great mood. “You’re lying!”

I told her the story in detail. We laughed heartily for a long time. One story led to another, then a third, and even a tenth. For hours, we reminisced about interesting events from our lives. It turned out that much of our childhoods were similar. For example, Ella was also noted as a gifted child. The caretakers at the orphanage who took her in after she ran away from her mother quickly noticed how early she had “learned” to speak, read, and write.

She had done well in school, but unlike me, she was always considered strange. While I forced myself to interact with the silly crowd, played with toys, and tried to act like a kid, she avoided all that. Interacting with “the little chickens” and “playing with dolls” only irritated her, so until she was about fifteen, she had to distance herself from everything and remain a loner.

In just one evening, we learned more about each other than anyone ever had in our lives. I had never felt so at ease and free in conversation with anyone else. Ella turned out to be the kind of person I wanted to open up to. Perhaps it was because of the similarities in our rebirth experiences. But most likely, the reason was more than just that.

Ella is close to me in character. It took me just a few hours to realize this. She is brave, intelligent, and cheeky in moderation. And of course, she’s a beauty. A rare, and in my opinion, perfect blend of personal qualities for a woman.

As I talked with her, I didn’t even notice that night had fallen. Ella looked quite tired, and she had another challenging day ahead of her tomorrow, so she wished me good night and went to the room designated for her. I had a strong desire to join her in the same bedroom, but I didn’t dare to hint at it, even jokingly. I didn’t want her to think that I expected her to repay me in some special way for my help.

For the record: I didn’t.

The next day started very early for me. Living a nearly carefree life, I had gotten used to waking up closer to noon. But lately, I rarely managed to sleep in past 8 a.m. Sponsoring numerous projects around the world often meant receiving calls about various matters from all different time zones. Occasionally, some particularly unreasonable people would call even at night.

Once again, the calls woke me early in the morning. Just as I sorted out one issue, another one would come in. It took me about five hours to resolve everything. By that time, Ella had managed to wake up, have breakfast, and meet with the makeup artist. For the next five hours, she sat in a chair while the artist transformed her appearance again.

Strangely, I felt a sense of dissatisfaction from not being able to have breakfast with Ella. Why was that? It was just one lost opportunity to enjoy her company. Soon, she would leave forever, and I would never see her again. So what? In the past, such a situation would have pleased me. Why didn’t it now?

After lunch, earlier than expected, the photographer arrived with the finished passports. As soon as he left, the makeup artist informed me that she had finished her work. Ella was once again unrecognizable, and all the preparations for her departure were complete. When I offered her something to eat, she declined, eager to leave the country as soon as possible. Knowing that Devin was actively searching for her, she didn’t want to delay her departure.

I instructed them to prepare the car, and within five minutes, we were inside it. Ella sat with me in the back seat, while Greg was up front with the driver. When the car started moving, Ella turned to me with her frightening new face.

“Has your plane returned?” she asked.

“The plans have changed a bit,” I recalled that I hadn’t taken the time to share the updated information with her. “I thought Devin might track it, so it’s better for you to take a commercial flight. The next one leaves in two hours, heading to the Bahamas. Once you arrive, get rid of the makeup and burn the passport. From there, you can go wherever you want, or you can stay there. I transferred five million into your account; that should be enough to live on. The money was sent through offshore accounts, so they won’t be able to trace it back to you.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Ella said, looking at me with wide eyes full of surprise. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“You’ll thank me in the next life when I start all over again, and we meet as babies once more. Then I’ll make sure to drill it into your head not to go to Poland to your mother. Devin won’t start hunting you down, and I’ll find you as soon as possible and help you settle in.”

“By then, I’ll be a different person,” Ella smiled. “But alright, we have a deal. It would be even better if you could convince my biological mother not to baptize me. That way, I wouldn’t have to go through so much while on the run. Just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine.”

“That’s up to chance,” I replied, confident that it was unrealistic to convince an adult to do something like that when I was just a six-month-old baby. “By the way, you never told me yesterday how you managed to escape in your childhood. A whole neighborhood searched for you all over the city. How did you manage not to get caught?”

“That’s a long story,” Ella replied playfully.

“We still have about 40 minutes to go, so I think you can fit it in.”

I remembered how I had promised myself in childhood that I would ask Ella about this at the first opportunity. I was bursting with curiosity about how she had pulled off such an escape. We had discussed nearly everything else that evening, except for that moment. Now, I had one last chance to satisfy my curiosity, and I wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Ella smiled sweetly again. True, in the makeup, her smile looked frightening, but I knew she was truly beautiful.

“Alright,” she said. “I spent months working on the plan. It all started in the sandbox…”

I turned to her, ready to listen attentively, but time suddenly seemed to freeze for a brief moment. In the window behind Ella, I saw a massive SUV barreling straight toward us. In an instant, I realized it was about to ram us at full speed.

“HOLD ON!!!” I shouted.

That was all I had time to say. I didn’t even manage to grab the handle. With a deafening crash, the SUV collided with our car. I was thrown sideways, and I remember hitting my head hard. After that… darkness.

I struggled to open my eyes. Everything around me was blurry but gradually took on recognizable shapes. I was staring at a white ceiling, which meant I was clearly not in the car anymore. I was lying on something soft, in a room. There was a strange smell, reminiscent of... a hospital?

Images began to surface in my mind. We had been in an accident. A blow to the head. And now I was in a hospital, having survived. But what about Ella?

I wanted to bring my hand to my head to check how bad it was, but something was holding me back. I couldn’t move. I tried to lift my head to see what was obstructing me, but I didn’t have the strength. I felt weak. Very weak.

Turning my head to the side, I saw walls rising around me. It felt as though I was lying not on a bed, but in something like... a crib?

Panic set in.

Not this…

I looked around, and there were walls everywhere. I exerted incredible effort to lift my head again and check my body. My worst fears were confirmed. I was wrapped in sheets from head to toe.

“No, no, no…” I spoke aloud, but my voice came out as a child’s babble. “Not this!!!”

From somewhere nearby, I heard a baby cry. Then another, and another. The whole nursery was filled with the sound of wailing infants.

Something warm began to spread across my legs.

“Motherf***er, no!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and again, instead of my adult voice, I heard a baby’s cry.

I was dead! Shit! I was dead again!

And I was reborn! I was a baby again.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” I roared in anger and helplessness.

Everything had started over. I didn’t want this! To hell with it all!

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

How much anger was within me. I knew exactly who I was going to direct it at. I knew who was responsible for that crash—Devin. If I was destined to go through the horrors of infancy again, then I would dedicate my entire adult life to destroying Devin. I would kill him in every life I lived, in every possible way. I would make him envy the sufferings of Jan.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” I continued to scream.

“Who’s crying over here?” came a familiar voice. My mother’s voice.

Her enormous head blocked half of my view. I immediately fell silent, staring at her. I felt the embarrassment of having my diaper changed again approaching. However, instead of that, my mother picked me up from the crib. It seemed she was about to cuddle her son to her chest. But no. She held me out in front of her, arms extended, looking into my eyes.

“Leo,” she said.

I couldn’t remember such a careless attitude toward myself. Although, the last time I was in such shock that I might have already forgotten.

“Leo,” she said louder, shaking me.

What the hell is happening? Why is she shaking me?

“LEO!!!” my mother suddenly yelled, shaking me even harder, all while maintaining a sweet smile.

I tried to understand what the hell was going on. I glanced toward where a nurse stood with a satisfied look on her face. No, my mother had never treated me like this before.

“LEEEEEEEEEOOO!!!” my mother screamed, contorting her face into a terrifying expression.

I squeezed my eyes shut from the violent shaking and turned away, trying to save my ears from the piercing scream. Suddenly...

I opened my eyes.

My head throbbed painfully, and my vision swam. After blinking several times, I realized I was looking at the upside-down front seat of the car. Greg hung unconscious, his head down, secured by the seatbelt.

I hadn’t died. I was still inside the car. I lay awkwardly on its roof. Fantastic! I hadn’t been reborn; I had just been having a terrible dream.

“LEEEEEEOOOO!!!” Ella screamed.

So, that was the cry breaking through my dream. I turned my head and saw someone dragging Ella toward the car—three men, one of whom was Devin. Who would have doubted it?

“Greg,” I barely managed to say.

With great effort, I pushed off the roof and propped myself up.

“Greg!” I banged on the front seat. The jolt startled my security chief awake.

I slowly crawled out. By that time, Devin had stuffed the captive into the vehicle and sped off. Struggling to my feet, I straightened up. My whole body ached, but surprisingly, I had managed to avoid any broken bones. When I touched my head, fresh blood trickled down my face.

I glared at the SUV disappearing around the corner. The anger boiling within me was no less than it had been in the dream. Devin had crossed every line. If I had previously viewed his actions as a personal challenge, now they felt like a slap in the face. And damn it all if I let him get away with this.

I pulled my crushed phone from my pocket and angrily tossed it aside. Meanwhile, Greg crawled out of the car.

“How are you?” I turned to him.

“Could be worse,” he sighed heavily.

“And the driver?”

“Alive.”

“Give me your phone.”

Greg tossed me his phone.

“Call the guys, tell them to hurry.”

I dialed the number of a good friend from the CIA, someone who could actually help me. He had access to satellites—the only chance to track Devin’s vehicle quickly and accurately before Ella disappeared forever.

I just needed to hurry.

***

Devin watched Ella closely as they rode in the SUV toward the church. Another kidnapper sat next to her, his eyes fixed on her as well. Ella tried to hold back her tears and mask her fear, though she was terrified. She understood that she was essentially being taken to her execution, and this time her chances of escaping the detective's clutches were nearly zero.

Devin wore a satisfied smirk.

“I see you put in some effort this time to evade capture,” he said. “The disguise is quite convincing. I even doubted for a moment if it was really you when I pulled you out of the car.”

Leaning closer to Ella, Devin rested his elbows on his knees.

“You’ve done well,” Devin said with a smirk. “You seduced a wealthy man and got him to help you, ruining the life of yet another naive fool—just like all the others before him. Now that it’s over, do you feel any remorse for them?”

“It wasn’t me who caused the accident, endangering innocent lives,” Ella replied, her voice trembling. “And I didn’t portray myself as a psychopathic killer to my boyfriend. That was all your doing. Everyone who came before suffered because of you.”

“If you look at the root cause, no one would have suffered if you hadn’t run away from your parents as a child. The law is the same for everyone, and I didn’t create it. Each person only gets one life, after which all memories are erased. You won’t be an exception.”

Ella looked at Devin with disgust. He leaned back in his seat, smugly relaxed.

“You really made me suffer. During my service, I’ve had about fifty orders, but you’ve definitely set a record. Most people are baptized on the first try; sometimes, it takes a second or third. But eight years of chasing you—that's too much. After two years of pursuing you, I bought an expensive bottle of whiskey and promised myself I’d only open it when I baptized you. So tonight is a special evening for me.”

“It’s one thing to be baptized as a child,” Ella said. “A person has their whole life ahead of them. But what will happen to me when everything is erased? Will I just be a mentally impaired girl? A piece of meat?”

“Always different,” Devin replied. “Sometimes only the memory of the past life is wiped. A person wakes up as if from a long coma, with no memories but the ability to do simple things like walk, talk, and even read. They learn everything from scratch, rediscovering life while often retaining aspects of their previous character. Other times, the procedure leaves behind an adult child who knows absolutely nothing. It’ll be fascinating to see how it turns out for you.”

“You destroy lives and think you’re doing the right thing?”

“I’m putting everything back on track. You destroyed the life of the girl whose body you currently inhabit. You ruined her parents' lives when you ran away. Blame only yourself for everything.”

Unable to hold back her tears, Ella buried her face in her hands, her head drooping. Devin glanced at his accomplice, both of them sneering mockingly. They didn’t see Ella as a complete person but as a virus infecting a human body that needed to be eradicated. They felt no pity or compassion for her, and Ella knew it.

Ella knew that her tears wouldn’t evoke any sympathy; nothing would make them release her. But a show of weakness might momentarily relax them, convincing them that she was broken and posed no threat—allowing them to revel in her vulnerability.

After a long deliberation, she decided to take the risk. She had no other options left. And then, she began to act.

Suddenly, with a swift elbow strike, she broke the nose of the accomplice sitting next to her. In the next moment, she lunged at Devin, repeatedly slamming her forehead into his face. The guard with the shattered nose lost his grip on reality for a brief moment but quickly regained his composure and lunged at Ella. Just in time, she turned and kicked him in the nose again, sending him staggering back. Then, she swung her knee into Devin’s chest, catching him off guard.

Ella dashed toward the door, hit the lock button, flung it open, and prepared to leap from the moving vehicle. She even pushed off with her legs to jump, but at the last moment, Devin wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her back.

“What’s going on back there?!” the driver panicked.

Ella flailed her elbows, striking Devin's head. She managed to turn to face him, gripping his face with both hands, her thumbs pressing into his eyes while her nails dug into his skin. Simultaneously, she began kneeing him in the stomach. Devin tried to pry her hands away, but her grip was firm, and the constant blows made it even harder for him.

In her fury, Ella relentlessly assaulted the man she loathed until a muted gunshot echoed. Something pierced her back, sending a chill through her body. Her mind clouded, and weakness flooded her limbs. She could no longer control her body. Finally, Devin tore her from him and threw her aside.

A tranquilizer dart protruded from Ella's back, fired by the second kidnapper. She slumped to the floor, leaning against the seat, and slowly closed her eyes.

“Unbelievable,” Devin gasped, touching his face, which bore bleeding scratches from Ella's nails. He glanced at his accomplice, blood trickling from both nostrils down to his chin.

“What’s happening?” the driver shouted.

“Everything’s great,” Devin replied, looking back at his partner. “I’ll enjoy my bottle of whiskey even more now.”

Ella lay unconscious on the floor of the church, her hands tied behind her back and her mouth sealed with tape. Three pairs of feet surrounded her—belonging to Devin and his two accomplices. They were dressed in clerical robes, seemingly ready to begin the baptism.

“Shall we start?” one of the helpers asked.

“She’s unconscious,” Devin replied.

“So what? What’s the difference?”

Taking a deep breath, Devin shot him a stern look. “On one of my first jobs, I had to deal with a massive guy. To baptize him, I had to inject him with three doses of tranquilizer. When he came to, nothing had changed. I had to redo everything while seven people held him down.” Devin glanced down at Ella. “I’ve been chasing her around the world for eight years. I want to do this right the first time. So bring the ammonia.”

The helper nodded apologetically and left. Half a minute later, he returned with a small bottle in hand. Meanwhile, the second accomplice finished cutting off Ella’s sleeves and pants below the knees, preparing her bare arms and knees for the anointing.

Devin took the ammonia, opened the vial, and held it to Ella’s nose. Within seconds, she began to regain consciousness. She jerked in fear and started looking around wildly.

“Good morning,” Devin smiled as he stood up.

Upon seeing the “priests,” Ella let out a loud whimper.

“Let’s begin,” Devin said.

His accomplices grabbed the captive under her arms and brought her to the baptismal font—a large basin filled with holy water on a special stand, resembling a giant trophy. The girl writhed, trying to fight back with her bound legs, but the kidnappers held her tightly, rendering her resistance futile.

Devin stood before Ella and began reciting a prayer. Ella whimpered and shook her head until one of the accomplices grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look straight ahead. Helpless, the captive could only watch as Devin poured holy water over her hands, then her knees. Tears of despair welled in her eyes as the two men leaned her over the baptismal font, and Devin scooped water with his hand to pour over her head.

Ella surrendered and completely relaxed her body. There was no point in resisting anymore; it was all over. She accepted the inevitable. Devin triumphantly raised his hand with the water toward her head.

Suddenly, the doors to the church swung open…

***

I stepped inside quickly and saw Devin, taken aback, standing ahead with two priests holding Ella above the baptismal font. Devin immediately lunged forward, drawing a gun from beneath his robe and aiming it at me. Four bodyguards emerged from behind me, fanning out and taking aim at the trio of kidnappers.

The men holding Ella straightened her up and turned to face us.

“A priest-detective-murderer,” I said with a smirk. “You could draw comics about yourself.”

Devin kept his gun trained solely on me, even though I was unarmed. His face twisted with rage as he shifted his gaze from one bodyguard to another.

“You might hesitate to ask, but I’m sure you’re curious how I found you so quickly,” I continued. “It’s the 21st century, remember?” I parodied his recent response. “There are cameras everywhere, satellites flying above us.”

I emphasized the last word with a self-satisfied smile. Devin tilted his head slightly toward his accomplices and barked:

“Finish it!”

“If they say a word, shoot them both,” I countered.

Several of my men aimed their weapons at the priests. They exchanged nervous glances but didn’t dare speak. Ella looked at me with terrified eyes. I sighed in relief; they hadn’t managed to baptize her. I had arrived just in time.

My command only further enraged Devin, causing his nostrils to flare.

“I hate clichés,” he growled at me. “But you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Let me guess,” I replied. “You consider yourself enlightened and receive orders from above to baptize people like her. Those who reincarnate in a new body with memories from a past life but managed to avoid baptism in childhood—the procedure that erases their former identity.”

“Then you know this is the sacred law of human existence.”

“And I also know that some laws exist to be broken. So I’m taking her.”

I took a step toward Ella, but Devin tensed his arm with the gun and leaned slightly forward, signaling his willingness to shoot.

“Over my dead body,” he said.

“What kind of priest would kill a man right in the church? That’s a mortal sin, you know?”

“I’ll repent later,” Devin winked.

I smiled; his response amused me. It seemed Devin was serious. I hesitated to approach him any closer and began pacing side to side.

“You know, there are always exceptions to every rule, even in your sacred law,” I said.

“You won’t get her,” Devin insisted.

“I’m curious,” I continued as if I hadn’t heard him—“are the enlightened aware of the existence of the ‘White Archive’?”

I glanced at Devin, and from the surprise in his eyes, I realized he understood what I was referring to. If he was as clever as he claimed, he should suspect I didn’t learn about the archive from Ella.

“Apparently so,” I concluded. “The people in it are precisely that exception, wouldn’t you agree?”

“She’s not in the archive. I would have been notified,” the detective asserted confidently.

“No, of course not,” I elongated the word mockingly. “But I am.”

Devin laughed nervously.

“That’s a lie.”

“How do you think I got rich? I’m living on the second round. And how else could I have found out about it? I’m not enlightened. My so-called guardian came down to me. ‘You have a mission,’ he said. ‘And to accomplish it, you need her’—” I pointed at Ella—“‘in the state she’s in now. Not baptized.’”

Doubt flickered across Devin's face. His accomplices exchanged surprised glances, clearly considering what they had just heard. I began to act bolder, moving toward them deliberately.

“If you kill me or her, the mission fails. I’ll wake up as a baby again, but this time, my primary target will be you. When I grow up, I’ll come to Poland to visit her mother’s grave instead of her. I’ll make sure you know I’m exactly who you need—the girl reincarnated in a man’s body. You’ll think you’ve got me under your control, but in reality, you’ll be the one hooked. I’ll make you suffer throughout your life. I can devise the most elaborate punishments, and believe me, I’m good at it.”

I stopped, closing the distance between us. Devin looked genuinely furious, his hands trembling with rage. It was evident he was wrestling with an overwhelming urge to shoot me on the spot. Yet, reason prevailed. He weighed my words and the consequences, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up what he had sacrificed eight years of his life for.

I waited a few seconds for his internal struggle to end, for him to yield and lower his weapon. When that didn’t happen, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I walked past him toward Ella. Devin took a heavy breath and, in disbelief, lowered his gun.

His accomplices wisely stepped back a few meters from the captive. I flicked my knife open and cut the rope binding her legs, then her arms. She tore the tape off her mouth.

“By tomorrow, you need to leave this country,” I said, turning to Devin. “My men will make sure of it. Forget about Ella forever; find yourself a new victim.”

After embracing Ella, we headed toward the exit. I noticed she was limping badly, so I picked her up in my arms. As I carried her past Devin, she turned her head toward him:

“Don’t forget to throw your whiskey bottle in the trash.”

My guards kept their weapons trained on the priests as we left the church. Something told me Devin understood everything perfectly, and I wouldn’t see him again.

Ella pressed against my shoulder and remained silent.

“So, where were we?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Ella replied, confused.

“Before the confrontation? You were about to tell me how you escaped in childhood,” I said, breaking into a smile. “Now we have plenty of time, so don’t leave out any details.”