Tired and reeking of smoke and alcohol, Klaus slowly turned the key in the apartment door. The kitchen light was on, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air.
"Good morning, young man," Pauoka said calmly.
"I hope you'll offer me some coffee?"
"Help yourself," she replied, gesturing toward the kettle while studying him with quiet curiosity.
Klaus hadn't even changed his clothes. After safely escorting his client home, he had spent a long time trying to leave the expensive apartment of a lonely woman who, by all appearances, had no intention of letting him go. The moment they crossed the threshold, she had practically pounced on him.
"I know perfectly well I shouldn't be doing this. You're still just a boy — but God help me, I can't resist you," she had said, pushing him toward the bedroom.
"I'm sorry," Klaus tried to protest, "but you're right. We don't have to… I mean, you're exhausted and probably want to rest. Let me help you to bed, and then I'll leave."
"Perhaps another drink first? Or are you really insisting we go straight to bed?" she smiled, closing the bedroom door behind her.
We're speaking completely different languages, Klaus thought, desperately searching for a way out.
He stood beside the bed while the flushed, drunken woman slowly approached, struggling to remove her shoes. He tried to gently push her away, but she was persistent. Within minutes he found himself on the bed, with her straddling him.
"I'll regret what I'm doing to this child tomorrow," she murmured, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
"Please… let's stop here," Klaus pleaded. He could have knocked her unconscious with a single movement and left without difficulty — but how would he explain that later if she decided to complain? He had never faced anything like this before.
"You want to take the initiative," she whispered, breathing whiskey fumes into his face — and suddenly bit his neck.
Startled, Klaus threw her off and pinned her to the mattress. The reaction was purely instinctive, but in this situation it looked rather compromising.
"Listen to me. You need rest. Let's leave it at that."
The woman smiled predatorily, raised her knee toward his groin, sighed languidly and… fell asleep.
So abruptly that Klaus froze in confusion. How had she even managed that?
With a sigh of relief, he got up, carefully covered the sleeping woman with a blanket, and left the bedroom. A moment later he returned, placed a bottle of water and two aspirin tablets on the bedside table, and quietly left the apartment.
He had spent barely an hour at the client's home and several more trying to get back. Finding a taxi proved difficult until, in utter desperation, he noticed a parked yellow cab with a sleeping driver inside. The absurdity of the entire evening convinced him that a mobile phone was the most essential object in this world — he would have to get one before his next shift.
Klaus poured himself coffee, sat at the table, pulled crumpled bills from every pocket, and placed them before Pauoka.
"Will this be enough?"
She looked at him in confusion, carefully straightened the money, and counted it.
"There's even more than we need, considering what we already have. How did you earn this much in a single day?"
"Don't ask. How many times must I tell you? I earned it. Call your Andryusha and let him begin the search."
"Are you certain you can earn the same amount again within a week?"
"More than certain," Klaus sighed. "Is Egor already home?"
"He went to bed just before you arrived. He told me everything."
"Do you understand my urgency now?"
"Now I understand that I'm not so unique after all. Just because I haven't encountered anyone from our world here doesn't mean they aren't present. We must watch for suspicious people."
"And look for tattoos."
"Unfortunately, there are many ways to conceal them — makeup, clothing, even covering them with another tattoo. They cannot be removed because of the method used to create them, but they can easily be hidden."
"Damn it, my headache keeps getting worse. You only have one orb? Did you really flee the country without taking more stimulants?"
"I had no time. I found this one by chance — one of my pursuers dropped it. Mercenaries favor stimulant orbs, which is probably why they die like flies."
Egor lay on his mattress when the door opened slightly and Klaus entered.
"Are you asleep?"
He didn't answer.
Let him think I'm asleep. I'm furious. I don't want to talk to him.
Klaus went to the wardrobe, took a fresh towel and clean clothes. He smelled of women's perfume.
Looks like he had a good time.
When Klaus left, Egor opened his eyes and clenched his teeth. He couldn't believe the prince could be so careless. Because of that mark, Egor had nearly lost his life. He had spent hours giving statements, convincing his colleague that he had been attacked by a would-be robber who fled in panic.
He had been even more surprised by Klara's appearance. She had surveyed the bar in complete confusion while two police officers, Egor, and Stepan — pressing towels to the back of his head — sat at a table.
"What's going on here?" she had asked.
"Klara? You were here the whole time?" Egor had replied in astonishment.
"I was busy in my office. But what are you doing here with the police?" she asked, glancing at the shattered door. "What happened?"
Egor told the fabricated story of a failed robbery. He couldn't believe she hadn't heard the commotion — the broken door alone, not to mention Stepan's screams, should have been impossible to miss.
"I often listen to music with headphones while doing accounts," she explained with a shrug. "It keeps me from dying of boredom."
After several exhausting hours repeating the same story, Egor had finally returned home, where he spent nearly another hour telling his grandmother what had really happened.
"The orb worked in my hands! Grandma, Klaus said only those with a predisposition to magic can use it. Is that true?"
"Yes," Pauoka sighed heavily, "but it won't help you. Have you forgotten? There is no magic in this world."
"What exactly is this orb?"
"It is a kind of stimulant. Usually such orbs are created using slaves whose magical abilities are too weak or useless to their masters. They pour their magic into the orb until they collapse from exhaustion, recover, and repeat the process. Mercenaries use them as a source of power — if their strength fails in battle, they absorb the magic from the orb."
"There is a drawback. Magic is restored, but physical exhaustion remains. If someone uses several orbs in succession, when the effect fades they collapse — often dead. Like Klaus, when he exhausted his last reserves of magic. Do you remember?"
"But if someone who runs out of magic dies, why did Klaus survive?"
"I don't know for certain. Perhaps because in this world the body cannot replenish magic naturally. The same thing happened to me when I first arrived here."
"And if I absorbed the magic we collect in the orb, would I gain abilities?"
"I doubt it. A person born with magical potential absorbs magic from infancy, and abilities appear no earlier than age five. The body must learn what magic is, adapt to it, establish limits. It is not simple. Some possess potential yet never learn to use it. Magic must also be studied."
"That is why in Isorobia the law requires annual testing of children aged five to ten — slaves, free citizens, and nobles alike."
"How complicated," Egor sighed. "So to awaken my gift I would have to be in a world where magic exists naturally?"
"In a sense, yes. But even that guarantees nothing."
Egor eventually fell into restless sleep.
In his dream Klaus laughed among half-naked women and, pointing at him, said:
"Begone. I don't need you anymore."
He woke abruptly, breathing heavily, glanced toward the bed where the crown prince slept peacefully — and soon fell asleep again.
Klaus awoke later and glanced at the clock above Egor's door. It was past three; he had slept half the day. Egor's mattress had been put away, and muffled voices drifted from beyond the door — more voices than usual.
He stretched, pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants, and headed for the bathroom before seeing who had arrived. Judging by Pauoka's calm laughter, his new family was in no danger.
"Good morning," Klaus said, entering the kitchen.
"More like good afternoon," a man replied kindly. "What a small world."
"Professor Skotsky," Klaus nodded. "I'm glad to see you. I've long wanted to thank you for helping me that day."
"Oh, think nothing of it! I was terribly frightened — I thought I'd run you over. What were you doing on the highway at that hour?"
"It's a long and uninteresting story," Klaus replied evasively.
They drank tea with the cake the professor had brought. Egor behaved strangely, avoiding Klaus's gaze and ignoring his attempts at conversation. Klaus assumed the young man was offended — perhaps because he had been left alone to deal with the police. But hadn't Egor himself insisted he wanted to be useful? Why sulk now? And why should Klaus even care?
"Get ready. I need your help," Klaus said evenly.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. I have my own plans."
"Really? What plans?"
"I… I've wanted to watch a movie for a long time. Today I finally can — Klara gave me the day off."
"Excellent. You can watch it later. I need to buy a phone."
"No," Egor said firmly, folding his arms.
The professor and Pauoka exchanged glances.
"By the way, I almost forgot," Pauoka said. "Klaus, you must visit Andryusha today. Regarding that matter," she added meaningfully, "he will speak only with you personally. And don't forget the envelope we prepared. Egor," she turned to her grandson, "why are you still sitting? Get ready."
"What does that have to do with me? Your Andryusha is waiting for him — let him go alone."
"Egor! Stop behaving like a child!"
Blushing to the tips of his ears, Egor cast Klaus an irritated look but rose anyway.
Outside the apartment he muttered:
"For your information, I have no desire to talk to you. Let's finish this quickly and go our separate ways."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Klaus snapped, grabbing his shoulder.
"Don't touch me!"
"I asked you a question. Are you upset because you had to deal with the police? Did it occur to you there would have been even more questions if I had stayed? And didn't you say you wanted to help?"
"That's not it!"
"Then what?"
"I'm not taking my words back — but how could you go off to have fun after everything that happened?"
"Have fun?" Klaus looked genuinely bewildered.
"I saw everything. I didn't know you liked older women — but that's none of my business."
"A client?" Klaus let out a strange laugh.
"A client?"
"She was a guest from the second floor. She drank too much. I was asked to escort her home."
"So she's not your… girlfriend?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Do you think I care about such things now?"
"But I saw her clinging to you… and you were holding her. You smelled of women's perfume this morning. What was I supposed to think?"
"It's part of my job."
"I saw them take you to the second floor yesterday. Do you work there now?"
"Yes. And please — let's not discuss it."
Seeing the pain in Klaus's expression, Egor dropped the subject. His mood lifted almost instantly.
"Let's stop on the way back and buy you a phone. I'll help you choose."
Klaus raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"Your moods change like a pregnant woman's."
"Shut up," Egor grinned.
The weather was beautiful. Though it was only May, the day was unusually hot. Leaving the cool subway behind, they removed their sweatshirts and decided to walk to the old building where Andrey had his office. Egor entered the address into his phone, and they strolled along the roadside while hundreds of cars roared past.
Egor enjoyed the brief calm, breathing the warm air and talking with Klaus. He wanted to know everything about the prince's homeland — not only about magic.
Klaus spoke of his childhood, his training, magical tests, and the rigid laws of his world. He described the fortress city of Anatodom, noble customs, magical classifications, and the harsh upbringing that had shaped him.
Eventually they reached a shabby five-story building that looked abandoned. A tall, heavily built man stood smoking near the entrance and eyed them suspiciously.
"Lost?" he asked.
"We're here to see your boss," Klaus replied.
After a tense exchange they were allowed inside, where they met a peculiar man named Mikhail — a specialist capable of locating the girl they sought.
Klaus paid half the fee in advance and even commissioned an additional investigation to discover who had manipulated the possessed waiter.
When they left the building, Egor finally exploded:
"Have you lost your mind? Where will you get that kind of money by tomorrow?"
"That's my concern."
"I'm serious! You're not going to rob a bank, are you?"
Klaus raised an eyebrow.
"Do you really think I'm a criminal?"
Egor panicked — until Klaus burst out laughing.
"I'm joking. Relax."
On the way back they stopped at an electronics store. Klaus required only that the phone could make calls, send messages, and access the internet. Egor carefully chose a simple, inexpensive model.
As Klaus completed the purchase, Egor's phone rang — it was Klara.
She demanded that Klaus return to work immediately.
"Well," Klaus said with a theatrical smile, slipping the new phone into his pocket, "you'll have to go home alone."
Egor could see how deeply his new work repulsed him — yet he understood that the prince endured it to eliminate the threat and find a way home.