She cried for a while longer before she calmed down, wiped her tears, and said:

"Alright, I'll tell that to our parents…" She picked up the money from the table, counted it, and sighed. Then, setting it aside, she looked me in the eyes intently. "But you have to promise me something too."

"Yes," I nodded.

"As soon as this is all over, you'll quit whatever you're doing. Whatever it may be. Don't try to convince me it's not dangerous and that you'll be fine - because I don't believe you. Just quit everything."

"Yes, of course, I promise," I nodded calmly.

Natali was looking into my eyes, probably trying to figure out if I was lying or not; I had agreed too quickly. But she didn't understand or fully believe that I myself didn't enjoy it. That I didn't take pleasure in dealing with aggressive gangsters who could kill in a fit of rage, who conversed like animals and constantly tried to bend me to their will.

But naturally, I couldn't get this across to her, so I remained silent.

"Okay, baby, what will you eat?" She gave me a weak smile as she stood up from her chair, showing that everything was okay and we could forget about this conversation for now. "We seem to have some dinner left for you, let me check. Or I'll cook something…"

They've been calling me baby since I was a child. Probably since I was born. Initially, I made futile attempts to make them stop, but then I just let it go. If they liked calling me that, so be it. They weren't insulting me, right? Arguing over such a silly thing would be ridiculous.

While my sister was busy in the kitchen, I washed my hands and quickly changed clothes. I didn't have much time to sleep, which I was not thrilled about. But at least in one thing, I was lucky:

"And our parents? They don't usually stay out this late."

"I don't know. They said not to wait up for them today," she replied, bustling around the stove. "Each of them is taking on more and more, which worries me. They can't keep this up forever."

"You're afraid they'll burn out," I rephrased.

"Correct," she sighed and placed scrambled eggs before me. "Enjoy your meal."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Still, what were you doing?" Natali sat opposite me. "I'm your sister, you can trust me. I promise I won't tell anyone, not even our parents."

"No."

"But…"

"I'm not going to tell you, Natali, don't get your hopes up."

"But you didn't kill anyone…" she started uncertainly.

"Of course not," this time, I smiled at her softly. "Who do you take me for?"

Exactly, who does she take me for? If I had killed someone, she would be the last to know. Or she might not know at all; such things are not discussed, especially at home, especially at the dinner table.

"Alright… But try not to come back so late, okay? Or give us a heads-up so we're not so worried. Nataliel stayed up until midnight waiting for you."

"If only I could. I just didn't take the phone with me," I shrugged. "But next time, I'll definitely warn you. I promise."

At least I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to work at night anymore. Or I would explain everything by staying overnight at a friend's house.

It may have seemed strange at the time, but there was one important thing to note - I was a minor and couldn't just roam around wherever I wanted, proudly claiming it wasn't their business. Firstly, it's inconsiderate; secondly, the family rules - I simply wouldn't be allowed to do that. My father was very strict about this.

I had just turned sixteen, and disappearing like that was, naturally, not quite right. No matter how grown-up I considered myself to be, officially, I was still under my parents' wing, and they treated me accordingly.

The following day, Alex approached me again. Although he didn't exactly approach me - he generally sat at the same desk as me.

After a night ride in the wealthy districts, where the houses looked like palaces, after visiting the industrial area where everything was bleak, gray, and dirty, and the local clan's bar, its oppressive atmosphere of banditry making you feel vulnerable, the bright classroom under the sun's rays seemed like another world.

It was as if I hadn't been here for a month. Laughing classmates, chatting among themselves and knowing nothing, carefreeness, calmness - I got the feeling that I had been in another world. They didn't know what was happening on the other side of this city, but I now did. The feeling was strange, as if I had returned to where I hadn't been for a long time, even though I had just had classes yesterday.

It was too bright and carefree here...

"Can't get over yesterday, huh?" Alex elbowed me.

"It's not that. I didn't even sleep today. So no nightmares haunted me."

"Why so gloomy then?"

"Just... tired."

I didn't explain anything to him. How could I explain that I'm now looking at my class, my school, where there's not even a hint of anything like that, and then I remember last night, dirty factories, safe break-ins, and... those photos. It's like I'm looking at two different worlds. Or...

Or, it would be more accurate to say, I'm looking at a beautiful staging, and then I see all these decorations from the inside, where beautiful views from the back are roughly joined together, all in props and dust. Outside and inside.

I know I'll get used to it, but I'll definitely remember the first impression for the rest of my days.

Truly, two worlds - this, the bright classroom and carefreeness, and that one - dark streets, violence, death.

"By the way, Box, Malu wanted to see you today."

"What does he want?" I asked, not looking up.

"He says he needs to show you something."

"What happens to traitors?"

"No," Alex grinned. "You saw yourself yesterday what happens to traitors. More like he wants to teach you something."

By process of elimination, it's either driving a car or handling a gun. There's not much else to teach me.

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"Okay," I shrugged. "If it needs to be done, it needs to be done."

"Great. By the way, you see Izumi?" he nodded towards one of the girls.

She was standing among four of her friends, forming a little group, chatting cheerfully. All I knew about her was that she was lively, a bit mischievous, and very sociable. A good person.

"So, what about her?"

"She's a stripper."

"Huh?"

I think that's what Alex was aiming for. I looked at her again, this time with a different perspective, trying to picture her naked. You wouldn't guess it. I would have assumed that she sits at home with a stuffed bunny after school, doing her homework, or engages in sports. But a stripper...

"How do you know?"

"I saw her there once. Moreover, she danced for me," he leaned towards me conspiratorially and whispered, "Completely naked. Although, she did ask me not to tell anyone so she wouldn't be swarmed by classmates there."

"But you told me," I looked at him accusingly.

"Well, we're friends."

She was the oldest in the class since she started school later. When everyone else was seventeen - I was the youngest at sixteen - she was already eighteen. Legally, an adult, in other words.

"Now you'll see her differently."

"But why?"

"Just because," he shrugged. "It's fun, right? Before, she was just a nice classmate, a girl who studied well, and you wouldn't even think of her in that way. But now you know she's a stripper, and you look at her in a new light."

Alex, unknowingly, just described my feelings. Seeing everything from a different angle.

What a guy...

Later, after school, I went to Malu's place. Or rather, the place where we always met.

He was waiting for me there with an average-sized bag.

"Oh, you're here," he shook my hand after opening the door. "Well, let's get going then. Syringa, where are you?!"

"Just a moment!" Her voice echoed from somewhere down the corridor.

"She's shitting again," he muttered. "Always shitting. How much crap can be in her?"

"Why is she called Syringa anyway?" I asked.

Malu grinned.

"The first time we went on a job, she was so scared, and her stomach twisted so much from stress that she farted all the way. It was hard to breathe. But since I didn't want to upset her by calling her 'stinker,' I softened it a bit and named her Syringa. She still thinks it's because of her lovely smell."

"You're a real monster," I admired.

"Thanks," then he turned his head towards the corridor. "Syringa, quit shitting! Let's go!"

"Enough! Stop it!" an embarrassed and irritated squeal echoed. "We're waiting for Box!"

"He's already here!" he joyously announced my arrival.

"Bastard! You're a damn jerk, Malu! I hope your dick falls off!" Her squeal was laced with humiliation.

In response to my silent question, he just waved his hand dismissively.

"It's fine - we always joke like this." He raised his voice again, "Syringa, wipe your ass and come out, we're waiting for you in the car!"

"GET LOST!"

Laughing, Malu shut the door.

"So, where are we going?" I asked when we got down to the car.

"Can you shoot?" he countered with a question of his own.

"Only in theory."

"A theoretical shooter? Not bad," he smirked. "So now you'll try it in practice. It'll come in handy in the future. I borrowed a few guns, so you'll have the chance to try them out."

"Out of town?"

"Do you want to practice shooting people within the city limits? Do you know how long it takes for the police to respond to gunfire?"

"Ten minutes?" I guessed after some thought.

"Correct," he nodded. "In Khanksk, the police arrive in about five to ten minutes, depending on the distance from the precincts, from the city center, and their inclination to get involved in a fight."

"So, in a district like this, ten minutes?"

"Roughly yes, but better to count on seven - unless you're unlucky enough to run into a patrol. Then, it's a toss-up - either they'll get involved or pretend they never drove by. In Silverside, it all depends on your status. In the Lower City, they might not come at all, only arriving an hour later to collect the bodies. In the Upper City, they can get there in less than five minutes, and they'll definitely destroy your sorry ass. You always have to consider them."

"What's the Lower and Upper City?" I asked possibly a basic question. I've always believed that ignorance is not a disgrace. Pretending to know is.

"The parts of Silverside. Lower City is the old part, located near the port, while Upper is almost the entire center, residential areas, and so on. You have to see it, you'll immediately understand the difference. And feel it."

"And you used to live there?"

"I worked there, more like. Oh, look, Syringa is coming," he quickly changed the subject, apparently not eager to share more details. And I didn't probe further, valuing his privacy.

We left the city limits along one of the highways and drove deep into the woods. The city is densely surrounded by roads, but the further away we went, the fewer of them we encountered. Some became dirt roads, and some were already overgrown to the point that you couldn't see the path. Some, even paved ones, were used so rarely that they were covered in dust and dirt, and grass started growing in the cracks.

The reason for this abundance of roads was the past of Manchuria, more precisely, its rapid growth. Various settlements sprang up, highways were built, and so on, and when the economic boom passed, much turned out to be unnecessary. That's why we have abandoned villages, forgotten unused roads, and much more.

We were driving on one of these forgotten but paved roads.

At some point in the journey, I started to suspect that they were taking me to be killed. Simply to get rid of me. After all, I had witnessed them robbing a house and killing a man, and now they wanted to throw me away like a used lockpick. Yes, this thought really did cross my mind, but I tried to keep my cool.

If they had wanted to do such a thing, they would have done it back then, at the industrial area.

Or did they not want to do it in front of Alex? Well, he already knows that I went with them. He's not stupid, he'll figure it out. So the theory that they wanted to kill me, though obsessive, had no basis. For now.

For about an hour, we were delving deeper into the dense forests of Primorye. We were silent the whole way. Syringa, in particular, was as red as a lobster at first, panting without pause, but seemed to calm down over time.

"Okay, turn here," Malu instructed, "we're going to the quarry."

Leaving the asphalt behind, we took a path marked by two ruts. The dense forest gave way to a small sandy quarry.

Apparently, someone had already come here to shoot. Possibly, these guys themselves. There was an improvised table made from a wide board on two barrels, a target made from the same barrels with a red circle on each, various cans, bottles, and even a mannequin, already completely torn to shreds by bullets.

"So, Mr. Theoretical Shooter," began Malu when we got out of the car. He pulled out three pistols, two automatic rifles, and a shotgun from a bag onto the table. "First rule - don't point a gun at a person unless you intend to kill or threaten them. You could get a punch in the face or a bullet for that. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Excellent," he nodded. "Take this and shoot at those barrels. Show me what you got."

He handed me a standard Colt 1911.

I carefully took it in my hands, feeling the pleasant weight of the weapon. Of course, I had seen what pistols looked like, knew how to reload, where the safety was approximately located, how to change the magazine, and so on. I think that in our time everyone knows what a gun looks like and how to use it. We're not exactly cavemen.

I raised it with one hand, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

A dry click.

I looked at the gun with slight surprise. The safety was off, so why didn't it fire? Maybe... I pulled out the magazine, which turned out to be empty.

I looked at Malu.

"Always check the magazine before the job," he pushed a box of cartridges towards me. "No one else will do it for you. But they'll happily shoot you."

"I honestly thought it was loaded," I confessed, pulling out the magazine.

"Because I gave it to you?" Malu smirked. "I'll give you some advice. For free. Trust no one. Anyone can betray you. Secondly, check your own gun before the job. Never rely on others in our business. And hold the gun with two hands - you're going to do a job, not show off."

"Do we have a job in mind?"

"Do you want to blow someone's brains out?"

"Um..." I hesitated a bit at that moment. "If there's no other way, although I'd prefer not to."

"No, no, lad, you don't understand," he shook his head. "When you're in the game, there's always only one way out. Feet first, in a box. If necessary, you shoot. No 'if there's no other way.' You take them down if you're told to. You can't bail on the job. Am I making myself clear?"

"More than enough," I nodded.

"This isn't a game, Box. If you screw up, everyone screws up. And if everyone screws up, my ass will get beaten, and I'll beat yours in return, get it?"

"Yes."

"That's good. Either way, you'll have to kill. It's inevitable while you are with us. But if you mess something up, if you don't shoot when you're told to or when it's necessary, for any reason - from stomach cramps to pity..." His gaze was cold, without any emotions or sympathy for anyone. "I'll be the one to shoot. And not just at the one you couldn't hit, but at you as well. I'm not threatening, I just want there to be no misunderstandings between us."

"What if it's a child?" I asked. "Just for future reference, so there are no, as you say, misunderstandings. Or a pregnant woman?"

At my words, Malu just smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

"We're not paid this kind of money for nothing, and you should understand what you've gotten yourself into," this was a good answer, very clear. However, I think he was lying to both me and himself. Judging by his reaction to the photo, he wouldn't be able to shoot a child or a pregnant woman. "Now shoot. Let's see your accuracy."