I lingered for a few more minutes to fix the large safe, restoring the LED to its place. All it took was unscrewing the back cover on the door and putting it back. After a few simple manipulations, it looked brand new.

Of course, from the outside, this seems easy, but when I first became interested in it, I spent a lot of time studying the subject. And then I got the chance to meet Alex and put my skills to the test. After succeeding, I wanted to delve deeper into this topic, after which I unlocked many door locks and all the safes in our old house. I never thought this would come in handy one day. The world is indeed an unpredictable thing.

"Done. Like brand new," I nodded at the safe.

"And what about this one?" Malu pointed at the small one.

"Just close it, and that's it," I shrugged. "Anything else?"

"Do you need work?" He smiled, jerking his chin.

"Depends on what kind," I cautiously answered, realizing that I was crossing a line. Why am I doing this? The answer is simple - money. Easy and quick money.

"Regular. We're all doing just regular work here, right?" He grinned and turned to his gang. "Am I right?"

"Right," Syringa grinned back at him, appearing even more predatory than before - as if she was no longer human. And Alex... Well, he always smiles, so nothing changed there.

"See, regular work," he clapped me on the shoulder. "So if you want, and if I have something, I'll signal you through Ali, got it?"

"Can I refuse?" I asked back.

"You can refuse. Right now," Malu smiled, but his tone clearly didn't match his expression. "You can dick around, or you can make money, decide for yourself, but right here and right now."

Easy cash and high risks or honest, tiring work and little money? The choice seems obvious for an honest person, but... If you add my sister's life, the timeline for buying medicines, their prices...

Damn it! I wanted to pull my hair out and bang my head against the wall to clear my mind. My father is a cop, and if he finds out, I'm definitely in trouble. And so is he. A cop's son got into crime. But on the other hand, wouldn't it be a small price to pay if I can save Nataliel? It would be possible to buy the most expensive medicines and save her.

These thoughts swirled in my head, repeating over and over again. Sister - money, sister - money, sister - money. I couldn't think of anything else but this.

But the most important thing - fear. Fear of getting caught, fear of being held accountable for these violations, fear of the feeling that you're already being pursued and Big Brother is already watching you. Those who have been in this business for a long time don't even worry about such things. But for someone who had nothing to do with it before... I feel like everyone around me already knows what I'm up to. It's funny, but not to me.

Let's face it, I'm only sixteen, and my life experience is just as much as Syringa's manners. This is new and unfamiliar to me, and considering my father, who often told stories about how they catch such small-fry gangs, it's also peppered with terrifying tales of an inevitable end.

And the end is simple - we will get caught.

And yet…

"Of course, reach out when you need help. I'd be glad to work. For good pay."

Alex hasn't been caught during this time, right? And he's still not in prison. So why should they immediately capture me? Besides, we'll cure my sister, and I'll quit this business right away. And if I get caught... they will most likely give me a probation. It's not a big price for her life.

"Great, Ali said you're a stand-up guy. So - as we agreed, he'll tell you when and what, but..." he came so close to me that our noses almost touched, and his friendly smile turned into the cold and ruthless face of a complete scumbag. "You pull any shit or let us down, and I'll slice you into bacon, got it?"

His voice was low, intimidating, with a slight hoarseness. Well-suited for such threats. However, I doubt he's bluffing. Surely, he had to maim people at least once. Or even kill, who knows?

"Yes," I calmly replied. "Then I'll be in touch."

"Alright then, good luck," he immediately returned to his previous state, gracing me with his gangster grin.

Without saying a word, I left the apartment and went into the stairwell.

Only on the street was I able to take a deep breath, feeling my heart pounding. I glanced around, but no one was looking at me. Even though my entire inner self was literally screaming: they know who you are, they watch you, they're doing it already, they know everything. The damned feeling of persecution didn't leave me until I got to the bus stop, and only on the bus was I able to somewhat pull myself together.

When I entered our house, I kept expecting someone to ask me what had happened or my father to say he already knew everything and what an idiot I was. But no one said a word to me. No one even guessed what was gnawing at me so much - somehow, my unflappable expression did not crack, even when my heart was trembling with fear in my chest.

***

"What do you think about him?" Malu asked a few minutes after his departure. The real name of this nineteen-year-old guy was Matvey Lumenko. Hence came his nickname from the first two letters of his first and last name.

"He's okay. I vouch for him," Alex shrugged. "He's a good guy, not a snitch, not a wimp."

"He seems slow," Syringa grimaced. Her name was Inna. Inna Syunyurye. "Absolutely no emotions. Neither in his voice nor in his face. He's somewhat retarded. He annoys me."

"He's fine. I've always known him to be like this," Alex smirked. "He gets a D, he doesn't give a shit. He has no money for the fare, he doesn't give a shit. He has emotions, he just takes everything very calmly."

"In short, retarded."

"You're the retarded one."

"Are you playing the smartest one here?" Syringa started to heat up.

Malu thoughtfully looked at the exit. There was not a single emotion on the new guy's face, no excitement or anything else; even when Malu slightly pushed him, he appeared as if nothing special was happening around. Either he's confident in his abilities, or he's really slow. Strange guy. But Alex vouched for him.

"Everything will be fine."

"How did he even learn to crack safes?" Syringa frowned.

"I told you, we stole answers from the safe in middle school. He reads a lot in general, so he knows some interesting things. Apparently, he read about breaking-in somewhere. Smart guy."

"If only bookishness counted as intelligence..." She snorted.

"We could really use a fourth one," Malu noted. "A good fourth one, I mean. I have reliable friends, but to call them here... no, they won't come here for small pickings. And there's no point for them to move."

"Are there not enough people on the street for you?" she nodded towards the window. "Why do you need the fatso? He'll have a heart attack during the first job!"

"And how will you find another one? Are you going to ask everyone? Maybe you'll put up ads: 'looking for an accomplice'?"

"The streets are teeming with people who would be better suited for this role!"

"All sorts of freaks, druggies, or complete imbeciles? I'd rather turn myself in to the police then. We need someone reliable, and there aren't many right guys for the job. Arrow won't give us anyone, and we'll be worn out looking. I can't just go out and yell that I need a guy for a job. This isn't the Lower City. You remember Gerk, don't you?"

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"So?" Syringa nodded.

"He seemed like a decent guy, knew his stuff, but he was crazy. Always pushed for control, behaved like we owed him our lives. You want to find another one like him?"

"I wasn't with you guys then," Alex noted.

"Yeah, you weren't," Malu agreed. "It ended with him screwing up right in the middle of a job. Everything went to shit then, and the cops got Pop. You don't know him, Alex, but there was such a guy. So, for that, Arrow called him in, and we never saw the jerk again."

"So why are you considering the fatso? How do you know he won't snap?" Syringa asked.

"Alex vouches for him," he nodded at him. "This one's better than some unknown dick from the street. Before, as Alex says, he didn't snap, right?"

"Sure, when he was robbing the teacher's room," she smirked maliciously.

"Everyone starts somewhere. Now, it's just going to get more intense, nothing more. We'll go on a trial run, see how he does, then decide what to do."

"He's got something going on with his sis. He fusses over her like she's his own child. That's why he's working so hard," Alex said.

"Well, then he certainly won't snap. His sister will be the guarantee. We'll see how it goes, of course, but when there's something to work for... right, Syringa?"

"What about me?" she frowned and was simultaneously embarrassed.

"Don't even. Arrow told me you also ended up here because of someone close."

"And you also did him for his help," Alex added.

And Syringa literally flared up as if she was suddenly filled with inner energy.

"You know what, Alex?! You know?! Screw you! Rot in hell!" She shouted in a fit of anger, then stomped towards the exit, "I can't deal with this moron. I'll go start the car and wait for you downstairs."

Both watched her leave, after which Malu looked at Alex with disapproval.

"And why the hell did you have to say that?" Malu glared at him. "Why bring up that topic? You know how she gets."

"Come on," he dismissed. "She'll cool down. Besides, she's the one who's overreacting."

"Right, and everything will be just fine now, huh? This is a mess... Anyway, let's haul the safe back."

"Did you put the gift in it?"

"Ali, do I look like an idiot? Let's go already. We'll return it and see what Arrow says. He had some job for us, I think."

***

Our city was divided into several districts. There was a downtown, then the industrial area, followed by residential areas with high-rise buildings, a wealthy area with almost palatial houses that had scenic views and sizable territories, and a private area - classic suburban American-style homes with small backyards.

You could say that this city inherited features from Russia, the States, Japan, and China. Each country left its mark here, including its people who became residents of Manchuria.

Our new home was located in a remote area, surrounded by similarly impoverished buildings and inhabitants. The houses looked more like boxes or trailers with flat roofs, which seemed like they were about to crumble.

But despite the outward appearance, it was safe here.

I returned home late, by dark. So it was no surprise that I was greeted by the disgruntled face of my sister, who, when angry, looked more cute than scary. Unlike Mom or Dad, she didn't really know how to express her anger properly.

"Where have you been?" She started the moment I stepped through the door. "Look at the time!"

"Natali, come on, don't nag," I grimaced. "You're not Mom."

"I'm worse! I'm your sister!"

"I can't tell if you say that with pride or regret. Do I need to remind you how old I am?"

"Is it less than eighteen? Yes. Now go wash your hands and eat, I'll heat up the food. If you had come earlier, it would have been fresh."

The argument could have gone on forever, but I wasn't too fond of arguing. So I just sighed, leaned over to my sister, kissed her on the cheek and said:

"Okay, I get it, sorry. And thanks."

"That's more like it," she puffed up her chest slightly. It took very little to make her happy. Natali, like Nataliel, belonged to the type of people who could love with all their heart, and all they needed for happiness was reciprocation. So, instead of arguing and bickering, it was enough to show that you appreciated her care for her to be happy. "Come on, hurry up. Mom and Dad are working late again, so it's just us for now."

"Yes, alright," I obediently replied.

Natali, like Mom and Dad, also had a job, but she was now getting off work earlier, not taking on extra or staying overtime, so she could manage the house and take care of Nataliel when needed.

The latter used to work, too, back when the attacks first started. But then she became weaker and weaker, to the point where she couldn't handle a full-time job anymore, let alone extra work. I knew she felt like a burden with all the money being spent on her, which probably made her feel worse than anyone else. She had to live with the thought that everything was because of her - from losing a normal home to not having any money.

So, Nataliel took care of the house, cleaned, washed, cooked, and even did repairs while others worked. At least she tried to do so as long as she had the strength - she would rest for an hour, then work for an hour. And the more attacks she experienced, the longer her breaks became and the shorter her working intervals. But when an attack happened, she would take a few days to recover, gathering her strength, and Natali would take over her work, coming home earlier.

Just like now, she was bustling around the house, tidying up and washing the dishes while I was in the bath.

"So, where were you?" She asked as soon as I sat down at the dining table. "At a friend's?"

"At a friend's," I nodded. "How's Nataliel?"

"She's still weak. You know, she needs time after an attack."

"Didn't she stay in the hospital?"

"She's afraid they'll give her rectal suppositories," Natali smiled, fiddling with the pots.

"If I'm not mistaken, they don't use rectal suppositories after an attack."

"Well, you tell her that," she smirked, nodding towards the door of the room where she and Nataliel slept. "Ever since they shoved them up her after a fever, she now associates all doctors with them. So, no arguments will keep her there. Here, take this," she placed a plate with a spoon in front of me. "If you want seconds, just say so."

"Alright."

At that moment, Nataliel walked into the room. She did indeed look pale, sickly, and involuntarily reminded me of those suffering from cancer. But even that couldn't calm her down.

"Look who's here," she leaned on me from above, hugging my neck from behind and pressing her chest against my back. "The prodigal son has returned. Where have you been, baby?"

"At a friend's."

"He's lying," she looked at Natali. "Sis, our brother is deceiving us."

"No, I'm not," I replied without even blinking.

"The worst thing about him," she continued, "is that you can't tell by his face whether he's lying or not. He's just inscrutable. But the sisterly intuition..."

"Tells us," Natali immediately picked up.

"That."

"You."

"Are."

"Deceiving us," Natali finished, and even without seeing their faces, I knew they had smiled at each other. Those devils were good at continuing each other's thoughts, as if they shared a collective consciousness. "I think so too, Nataliel. But he's unlikely to confess."

"He probably doesn't like us," Nataliel sighed. "And yet we do so much for him. We give all our love to our little brother."

"And your brother is grateful," I replied, finishing off my soup.

"Want seconds?" Natali instantly perked up.

"Yes, please. How are you doing, Nataliel? I thought you would stay in the hospital this time."

"Your desire to leave me alone with the doctors and their suppositories is outrageous," she pouted, although I knew my sister was just teasing. "What would I do there?"

"Lay, eat as much as you can, gain weight, and rest."

"I can do all of that at home."

"It doesn't seem like it. You can't sit still without working. For instance, you made half of this soup," I immediately said.

"Why do you say that?" I know for sure her eyes were darting around. They always do when she's nervous.

"You're the only one who cuts carrots into triangles, even though I can't figure out how you manage to do it."

"I'm feeling good," she finally let go of my neck. "Besides, I'm taking new medications now, so everything is fine."

In the past, even though Nataliel didn't realize it, she said the same thing. But each time, she only got worse, and I felt cheated, betrayed. Of course, no one could know the drugs wouldn't help, but that didn't make it any easier.

Just remembering this made my heart twist with pain and fear for my sister. Looking at her pale face and still lively, unflagging eyes, in the depths of which hid fear, I felt melancholic. Everyone knows, everyone anticipates how this will end. We're just watching her slow death, powerless to help. And the more you look at her pale face, the more often the thought comes: "I wish she would die quickly and not torment us or herself." I love her with all my heart, but I can't even say why I think this way - out of love for her, so Nataliel wouldn't suffer, or out of fatigue from the fear of the moment that will inevitably come?

And for some reason, I felt these medications wouldn't help her either. We should start preparing for surgery right away. How much did it cost? Several million? Only if I rob a bank could I get that kind of money. I could also pray and accidentally win the jackpot or the lottery, but God is hardly on our side in this fight. Judging by what's happening, he's clearly turned away from our family, not giving a more than decent person a chance to escape this quagmire.

Our family was religious. Holy Light, or as it was also called in the rest of the world - Shinguanism. The main religion in Manchuria. It's one of the dualistic religions, with a bit of classical Christianity, paganism, Taoism, etc. Combining everything resulted in a completely different world religion, albeit not the largest one, with its own rules, beliefs, and customs.

We used to go to the temple every Sunday, never forgetting to cleanse ourselves of darkness, pray, listen to sermons, and so on. We didn't go to extremes, but we weren't just those who simply wore a cross. The cross itself was not like in Christianity; it's also known as the sun wheel.

However, due to Nataliel's illness, we stopped doing it - there was no time: everyone worked to get out of this mire. Didn't we deserve some help from God? Why do mafia clans, killing left and right, and the greedy noble houses, who only rob others, get so much money? Have they really earned it?

I know she will go to heaven and so on, but... I want to see my sister here, alive and happy, not in heaven. I don't want to lose her because of some damn disease and damn money! Is it necessary to put a person through this only to then allocate a place in paradise? Why the hell can't they just let her live if it's that simple?!

I still believed in God, sometimes prayed and visited the temple to ask for my sister's recovery, for him to illuminate her soul with light and heal her, but... The longer this went on, the weaker this faith became, and the further I felt from God. Maybe because I myself started to descend into hell. Inside me, it was getting darker and darker.