"Klaus, come to my office after your shift."
"Is that really necessary? I have no desire to stay here any longer."
"I need to speak with you," Klara insisted.
"I'm taking a smoke break."
"Why can't you be as friendly with me as you are with the customers?" she asked with a faint smile.
"I don't get paid extra for that."
Klaus headed toward the emergency exit that led to the staff's makeshift smoking area. By now he understood why nearly everyone here smoked — it was the only escape from the constant irritation of demanding guests.
He pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and lit one.
"Disgusting," he muttered, exhaling.
"Then why did you start?" Mia asked.
"Mia."
A calm setting. A harmless girl. No reason for suspicion.
And yet the uneasy feeling lingered.
In his own world, he would never have questioned his instincts. But here… this was not the first time. Perhaps his nerves were failing him.
"You seem especially tense today," Mia said. "Did something happen?"
"This is my usual state."
"Here. Someone asked me to give this to you."
She handed him a folded piece of paper.
"Again," he said irritably, unfolding it. "This is becoming tiresome."
"The more attention you get, the more money I make," she laughed.
"I'm not interested in frivolous girls," he said, crushing another phone number and invitation to meet after work.
"If a girl makes the first move, that doesn't make her frivolous. Or do you just not like women?" she teased.
"I like women. But base desires are not my priority at the moment."
"And what about love?" Mia asked dreamily. "Isn't love something higher?"
"Then why don't you confess your lofty feelings to Egor?"
"How did you—" She flushed. "No, it's not like that. I like him, but I don't want anything more. Do you understand?"
"No," Klaus said calmly. "I've never loved anyone, but your reasoning seems flawed. If you love someone, you want them to be yours. Isn't that so?"
"It's more complicated," she replied quietly. "I don't feel anything from Egor. I don't want to risk rejection. Right now I still have hope — but if I act, I might lose even that."
"Then you're a coward. If you want something, take it. Fight for it. Steal it if necessary."
"Wow. You're intense," she said, shaking her head. "But if you've never loved, you wouldn't understand."
"Perhaps you're right," he said coldly. "Disgusting."
He tossed away the half-smoked cigarette and crushed it under his heel.
"Then why smoke if you hate it?"
"Better to breathe this filth than spend extra minutes groveling."
"You're strange."
Egor was arranging napkins at the bar when Mia and Klaus returned from the smoking area.
They've grown closer, the thought flashed through his mind.
They were talking. Klaus was almost smiling.
Fine. Maybe he'll stop exploiting me and switch to Mia. She'll run soon enough once she sees what he's really like.
"Why are you just standing there?"
Egor flinched when Klaus placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing. Everything's fine," he muttered, shrugging off the touch more sharply than he intended.
Why does he irritate me so much?
"We have to stay a little longer today. Klara called me in," Klaus said with a grimace.
"What does that have to do with me? You know the way home."
"So you were listening."
Klaus turned and walked away without another word.
"Unbelievable," Egor muttered. "I don't even know what to call him anymore."
"You two get along wonderfully," Mia said with a quiet laugh.
"I can't stand him."
"I wouldn't say that," she replied with a sad smile before taking a menu and moving to greet guests.
"I hate him," Egor repeated softly — mostly to convince himself.
He couldn't understand how two completely opposite personalities could exist in one person. With customers, Klaus was charming, attentive, effortlessly brilliant. In just a week he had become Klara's favorite.
So why did he act like such a bastard with him? Why was he rude to his grandmother? Why did he keep talking about another world?
Egor was certain Klara was planning to reward Klaus somehow.
And the anger he had felt earlier — when he saw Klaus with Mia…
Was that jealousy?
Had he really fallen so low?
"Egor, you can leave. Klaus, please come to my office."
"I'll wait outside," Egor said quickly, leaving them alone.
"Please make sure the door is locked," Klara added with a smile. "You know Slava — always daydreaming, though he makes excellent cocktails."
The workday was over. Only the three of them remained in the bar.
Egor checked the door. Locked. But the blinds were still open.
A movement outside caught his attention.
A girl stood pressed against the glass.
She didn't look like a beggar, yet her worn clothes, smeared makeup, and tangled hair suggested otherwise. Stolen designer items, perhaps. Or a drug addict abandoned by her family.
The latter seemed more likely.
Something about her gaze was wrong — wide eyes, dilated pupils, frantic breathing. Dirty hands scraped against the glass as if she were trying to claw her way inside.
A chill ran down Egor's spine.
For a moment, pity almost made him approach — but a sudden sense of danger stopped him. He quickly lowered the blinds and, trying to shake the image from his mind, went to the back entrance to wait for Klaus.
"So," Klara said, settling into her chair and crossing her legs, "I'm impressed."
Klaus stood before her with folded arms, waiting.
"You called me here simply to share your opinion?"
"Don't be sarcastic. Your courtesy extends only to customers. I keep hoping that might change — at least toward me. I have a proposal."
"I'm not interested."
"You haven't even heard it."
"That won't change my answer."
"Very well," she said calmly. "Let's try another approach. Would you like to earn more? A new apartment? A car? Everything money can buy?"
"Pauoka insisted I work for money," he replied quietly. "So yes — I need it."
"Who is Pauoka?"
"The elderly woman I currently live with."
"You mean your — and Egor's — grandmother?" Klara laughed. "You seem oddly detached from your family."
"Our relationship is purely transactional."
"Then my offer should interest you."
"Stop circling the subject. Say what you want."
"I own another establishment," she said. "A private club for wealthy clients. Only the best staff work there. You could earn a month's salary in a single evening."
"What's the condition?"
Klara smiled slowly and approached him. That familiar sense of hidden danger returned.
She circled the desk, lifted his chin, and whispered near his ear.
"There is no condition. You serve guests as you do here — and provide additional services if mutually desired. Do you understand?"
Klaus pulled away sharply.
"No. I do not."
"Don't pretend," she said softly. "Why else would wealthy clients visit a private club filled with beautiful young staff?"
"You're asking me to work in a brothel."
"Oh, don't exaggerate. Whether you sell yourself is entirely your choice. No one will force you."
"As I said, I'm not interested."
Anger rose sharply within him.
It was not enough that he had already fallen to the level of a servant — now she wished to reduce him further.
"I'm not rushing you," Klara continued calmly. "But don't take too long. Several clients have already shown interest in you. They're willing to pay well. You would only need to sit and drink with them."
"My answer remains unchanged."
"Have a pleasant weekend, Klaus," she said lightly. "I'll ask again — once you understand what you're refusing."
He left before his fury could erupt.
Nothing would make him fall so low.
Better to remain trapped in this world forever than become someone's plaything.
"Why are you so angry?" Egor asked when he saw him. "Did she fire you?"
"No. Let's go."
Klaus strode toward the main street. Egor followed in silence.
Suddenly the strange girl from the window staggered toward them.
"Finally… finally! I've waited so long!"
Her eyes were wide, pupils darting wildly, a terrifying smile stretched across her face. She moved like a broken doll, arms outstretched, muttering incoherently.
The young men froze.
Egor saw Klaus's expression harden.
"Miss, the bar is closed," Egor said, restraining him. "Please come back another time."
She ignored him.
"Finally… I found you."
"Hey! Are you listening?" Klaus snapped.
At the sound of his voice, she froze — then lunged at him with unnatural speed.
Without thinking, Egor stepped in front of Klaus, raising his arms.
At that instant Klaus felt it.
A painfully familiar presence.
Magic.
Faint, but unmistakable.
That moment of realization cost him a second.
The girl seized Egor's arm.
Pain tore through his body. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. His sleeve caught fire where she touched him.
A perfect circle burned through the fabric.
On his wrist appeared an eye-shaped mark.
The pupil moved.
The brand flared — then faded, leaving a permanent seal.
"What the hell is this?!" Egor shouted.
The girl collapsed, unconscious, completely drained.
"Show me," Klaus ordered, gripping Egor's wrist. "Impossible…"
"You know what this is? I swear I saw the eye move!"
"You saw the mark on her palm?"
"Yes. When she touched me it felt like—"
"As if you were being branded," Klaus finished.
He checked the girl's pulse.
"Call an ambulance. She's exhausted. I don't know how long she was possessed."
"Explain what's happening first!"
"Call the ambulance," Klaus repeated sharply. "Otherwise she'll die."
Egor obeyed automatically.
When had he started following Klaus's orders without question?
He had stepped between him and danger without hesitation.
Protect him.
But why? He hated him.
Later, back at the apartment, Klaus shouted from the doorway:
"Wake up, old woman!"
Pauoka opened the door, irritated — until she heard his words.
"A tracking mark has appeared in this world."
Everything changed at once.
They examined Egor's wrist.
"It's a search brand," Pauoka explained. "A powerful tracking spell. Whoever cast it will always know your location."
"And what does that mean for me?" Egor asked quietly.
"They meant to mark Klaus," she said. "Now they will believe you are him."
Egor went pale.
"Wonderful," he muttered. "Now I have to become him too."
Klaus silently placed a cup of hot coffee before him.
"As an apology."
The simple gesture extinguished Egor's anger almost instantly.
How could someone be so unbearable — and yet disarm him so easily?
Pauoka and Klaus discussed the situation long into the night.
Whoever had been searching for Klaus had a purpose. It might be an ally sent by his father — or an enemy determined to finish what had begun in the prince's chamber.
Whoever it was, there was only one path into this world.
And they would come for him.
He had to be ready.