Not waking up dreams (Part 1)

1.The Plague Doctor

It all started in 2030 in the city of "X." In one of the downtown buildings that looked like an archaeological find, it stood among the faceless and cold skyscrapers that were anything but kindred spirits. They towered above the clouds, looking down with arrogance and expecting this artifact to be buried. But despite its age, time couldn't complete the burial rite over this witness to an extraordinary era and pretend that it was never there.

One ordinary October day, sometime in the afternoon, a stranger entered the building through the old door on the first floor. He crossed the floor covered with white marble, which preserved the memory of the times of society ladies. Moving toward the reception desk, he occasionally corrected his path with a cane.

Approaching the registration desk, the mysterious visitor caught the attention of the young woman there.

“Hello,” the stranger said in a soft and polite voice.

“Good afternoon! How can I help you?” the woman replied.

“My name is Gustos. Is it possible to meet Dr. Zi today?”

“Give me a minute, I’ll check his schedule,” she replied, quickly searching for something on her computer.

At that moment, Gustos saw a mirror behind the girl. He instinctively straightened up, carefully adjusting his old top hat. The corners of his lips slightly curled up in a bitter grin as the image of his lost eye flashed through his memories. His reflection looked more like a sinister pirate with an eye patch than a gentleman.

He turned away from the mirror in annoyance and examined the lobby. His gaze turned to the walls, where paintings hung.

“Strange,” he whispered to himself, “I don’t remember there being paintings here before…”

“Gustos, Dr. Zi will be available in half an hour. Can you wait?” the girl addressed him, interrupting his thoughts.

“Of course, I’ll wait. Thank you,” he said softly, lost in thought.

Noticing his interest in the walls, the girl asked, “You seem to be here for the first time? I see you’re interested in our walls.”

“Yes, I don’t often come around here,” he replied. “Everything seems familiar yet completely new. Who is the author of these works of art?”

“These are Dr. Zi’s works,” she said with a smile. “He will be free in fifteen minutes. You can wait for him in the waiting room over there,” she pointed, “or if you want, you can go up to the second floor. There you will find more of his works and his office.”

"Thank you," he nodded, still looking over the painting. "I'd love to have a look at the collection on the second floor," he said, showing clear interest.

"Of course, head on up. I'm sure you'll like it," she said, pointing towards the stairs and smiling back.

"Thanks," said the guest, turning and slowly making his way up the stairs.

Upon reaching the second floor, he paused for a moment before one of the paintings. Leaning on his cane with both hands, he scrutinised the canvas, where colours and lines were interwoven in an abstract dance of time and space.

"Intriguing painting," he murmured, his eyes tracing every curve and swirl.

As he moved further along the gallery, he stopped at each piece, studying every detail with evident interest.

"You know, each painting tells a story," he mused aloud, wandering around the gallery as if searching for clues to understand the world.

After a while, he approached a door marked "Dr. Zi" and knocked.

"Do come in," came the response from inside.

Gustos gently opened the door and stepped into the room. He carefully removed his cloak and hung it on the hook by the door. Glancing around, he noticed a man pacing back and forth, waving a stack of papers and talking on the phone.

"Excuse me, am I interrupting?" Gustos asked, sensing the tension in the room.

"This is utter nonsense!" the man was loudly exclaiming into the phone, his voice sharp.

"I suppose I've come at a bad time?" Gustos tentatively remarked, feeling the charged atmosphere.

The man flinched and nervously smiled, covering the microphone with his hand.

"No, it's quite alright. I'm nearly finished," he quickly said.

"Alright, I'll wait," Gustos replied calmly, taking a seat. He continued to watch the man, who resumed his phone conversation.

Gustos, casting his eyes around the room, noticed the enigmatic masks on the walls, which lent the office a certain air of mystery.

"There's so much to see here," he said, settling comfortably into the chair and crossing his legs. His gaze settled on an easel with a canvas in the corner.

"Perhaps it's a new piece," he pondered aloud.

The man in the office continued to talk on the phone, occasionally jotting down notes on paper.

“This entire office... resembles a painted canvas,” Gustos continued, shifting his gaze to the walls adorned with paintings from the Venetian era.

“Look at the detail on those plague doctors in masks...,” he added, full of admiration.

“It reminds me of the fragility of life, but also of the grandeur of art.”

“Indeed, it’s thought-provoking,” he said slowly, noticing the cluttered desk by the window. “Everything here is like controlled chaos. Every document, every folder, hides a story.”

At that moment, the doctor approached Gustos, who politely greeted him:

“Hello! I see you’re still on the phone,” Gustos nodded towards the phone in the doctor’s hand.

“Hello!” said the doctor.

“I apologise for the delay,” the doctor said, shaking Gustos’s hand.

“Your attire is rather unique. You look like a character straight out of English classical literature, don’t you? Pardon my bluntness.”

“Your style certainly catches the eye,” the doctor said with interest, studying Gustos.

“I hope that’s a compliment,” Gustos replied with a smile.

“Oh, absolutely, don’t worry,” said the doctor gently, detecting a hint of tension in Gustos’s voice. “I didn’t mean to offend you. You just don’t see someone with your style every day. But if you don’t mind, hold still for a moment. You’re inspiring me,” the doctor added, putting his phone aside.

“Marvellous,” the doctor said, walking around the stranger, waving his hands and drawing a square in the air, muttering quietly to himself. Then he stopped, peering at the guest as if assessing him for some mysterious project.

“Perhaps for future generations, it’s worth considering a portrait of a distinguished gentleman with a mysterious look,” he mused aloud, seemingly talking to himself, but his gaze never left the guest.

“It’s settled!” the doctor suddenly exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and looking at the guest with enthusiasm. “You will be my next masterpiece.”

“Interesting,” the guest replied, sensing the atmosphere in the room become even more mysterious and tense.

“This promises to be a fascinating project,” said the doctor.

Breaking the pause, the guest interjected with an ironic tone:

“Doctor, if I could kindly ask you to stop circling around me and take a seat, it would significantly calm my nerves. And I don't have much time to play your games!”

The doctor paused briefly, and a thoughtful silence settled in the room.

“You know, I just thought… are you, by any chance, from a modelling agency?” the doctor asked, surprised.

Gustos looked at him with confusion, “What agency?”

“Oh, sorry for the confusion. I thought you were a model. Apologies if that sounded odd,” the doctor said.

“No, I'm not a model,” Gustos replied with a smile.

“May I know who you are and why I'm here?”

“You must be Doctor Zi?” Gustos clarified.

“Yes, that’s me. What can I help you with?” the doctor replied.

“My name is Gustos,” he introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Gustos,” the doctor smiled.

“The pleasure is mine. I'm here to offer you a job. Your resume is quite impressive, and I'm sure you'll be perfect for this position,” Gustos said.

“I’d discuss it, but I have a busy day today,” the doctor sighed.

“I understand, but my offer might make your schedule more flexible.”

“What position are you considering me for?” the doctor asked with interest.

“I’m offering you the position of chief neurobiologist in my new company.”

“That sounds tempting. Tell me more about what the role entails,” the doctor said.

“You will lead the neurological research department, exploring new approaches to understanding the human brain. We will provide you with all the necessary resources and give you complete scientific freedom,” Gustos explained.

“Interesting offer, but I need to know about potential risks. How safe is this research?” the doctor asked.

“Rest assured, the research is entirely safe,” Gustos said confidently. “Perhaps the biggest risk for you will be the daily commute to and from work.”

“Alright, go on, I’m all ears,” said the doctor.

“Excellent,” Gustos continued. “We’re working on a project that allows people to immerse themselves in their own dreams and memories, thus creating a fine line between reality and fiction. It enables the human brain to effectively reimagine and relive its memories.”

“You probably know that the human brain accurately remembers many details throughout life,” Gustos added.

“Yes, that’s a well-known fact,” the doctor exclaimed.

“May I continue?” Gustos asked.

“Of course, go on,” the doctor nodded.

“We offer our clients the opportunity to relive their memories,” Gustos explained. “Imagine being able to find yourself on the seashore at any moment or meet people you’re no longer with. We can recreate these moments.”

“That sounds fantastic,” the doctor replied. “But unfortunately, my schedule is so full that I can’t take on any new projects. I’m sorry.”

“I noticed the paintings on the walls and the traces of paint on your hands. How do you find the time to paint with such a busy schedule?” Gustos continued.

“I wouldn’t call it a waste of time,” said the doctor. “When I paint, it helps me reflect. It’s a kind of meditation that helps me relax and sometimes find answers to difficult questions. I usually pick up my brushes when I’m stuck at work or have personal difficulties.

I’ve adorned the walls with these works of art as a constant reminder of my failures. They serve as a driving force; when I glance at them, they spur me into action.”

“If you think I’m unaware of the global threat growing in the world, you’re mistaken,” said Gustos. “I’ve been working on this problem for a long time and have made some progress.”

“I noticed that you’ve already started a new project,” Gustos said, pointing to an easel with an unfinished painting. “As I understand it, you’re so focused on this because of the current epidemic that is causing many difficulties. But unfortunately, I have some bad news for you — you won’t be able to complete this project. I already have a solution that will relieve you of your suffering.”

“Hold on a minute!” the doctor said, shuffling through the papers he held. He pulled out one sheet and read: “Sender — Gustos.” “Wait! You’re the Gustos I was just talking about on the phone with my colleagues?”

“I hope you weren’t eavesdropping on our conversation?” he asked with some surprise. “And may I know why you didn’t introduce yourself? You really caught me off guard!”

“It’s alright, let’s not dwell on that.”

“I’ve reviewed the materials you provided. Where did this idea come from? And you’re seriously proposing to use a new polymer? How do you plan to integrate living cells with microchips? And how will this help fight the virus?” the doctor asked questioningly.

“Doctor, let’s address each step one by one. First, I’ve gathered all the necessary components and am quite certain of project approval. I’m also ready to discuss my strategy for combating the virus spreading worldwide. I think you’ll be interested to hear the details of my plan and how it can solve this problem. Can we move on to a detailed discussion of my idea?” Gustos suggested.

“Yes, certainly, go on,” the doctor nodded.

“Excellent,” Gustos noted with satisfaction.

“So, the virus is called ‘RW-OV-5’. I know the situation is serious, and every day the number of victims increases. According to the World Health Organisation, if we don’t take action, humanity could face extinction,” Gustos said.

“But I disagree with their conclusions. I’m sure we have a chance to change the situation,” he added resolutely.

“As far as I know, no antigen has been developed so far that can even come close to solving this problem. They can’t even reach the first phase of testing, right, doctor?”

“Yes, unfortunately, we’re indeed on the brink,” the doctor admitted.

“Alright, let’s talk in detail about the virus and how to fight it,” Gustos began. “I’ve created a project I call ‘Raptor’. My idea is based on the behaviour of velociraptors, which millions of years ago used complex tactics for hunting and defence. They acted in coordination and communicated to survive in groups.”

“Understood, is that clear?” Gustos asked.

“Dinosaurs, ‘Raptors,’ right?” the doctor interjected with a smirk, shaking his head.

“Patience, doctor,” Gustos calmed him. “When you understand the details, your scepticism will disappear. In my experiments, I found that the virus uses intra-viral communication, reminiscent of the coordinated behaviour of ancient predators. This complex interaction renders traditional methods of fighting the virus ineffective—they simply cannot deliver the desired result.”

“Interesting,” the doctor replied, more intrigued now. “How did you make this discovery?”

“It all started with an experiment: I introduced bacteriophages into a culture of Bacillus subtilis. Incredibly, instead of the expected bacteriophage interactions, I noticed signals directly from the viruses. This led me to believe that viruses have their own unique communication system. If we can hack it, we can effectively fight the virus,” Gustos explained.

“Incredible!” the doctor exclaimed, eyes wide with amazement. He approached Gustos, excitement in his voice. “You claim to have found a way to ‘talk’ to the virus and make it retreat?”

“Yes, but that's only part of the story. I also stumbled upon something I call ‘Quintessence’. It will open a new chapter in our research,” Gustos continued.

“And what exactly is ‘Quintessence’?” the doctor asked, full of curiosity.

“‘Quintessence’ is a substance with immense potential. We won't limit its use to just microchips. Its application can radically change our approach to medical technologies, allowing us to not only fight viruses but also rethink many aspects of healthcare,” Gustos explained.

“You know, your plan sounds like science fiction. Don’t you find it a bit strange?” the doctor said with a hint of irony.

“My plan is quite simple: we implant microchips with ‘Quintessence’ into people's bodies so they can defend themselves against the virus. These chips will block the virus by disrupting its communication, solving all our problems,” Gustos explained.

“Do you seriously believe what you're saying?” The doctor stared at Gustos, eyes wide with surprise.

“More seriously than you can imagine,” Gustos replied confidently.

“Do you understand the amount of work ahead?” the doctor asked, trying to assess the scale of the proposal.

“I fully understand. It won’t be easy,” Gustos acknowledged.

“It seems you're pulling me into some risky venture,” the doctor said with doubt in his voice.

“Yes, it's an adventure, but isn’t life itself one big adventure?” Gustos smirked.

“But you understand that these experiments will take years? Humanity might not have that much time,” the doctor’s voice had hints of urgency and concern. “And finding volunteers for such tests will be extremely difficult. I think this may just be a product of your imagination. We can't afford to waste time on such a risky endeavour,” the doctor noted.

“Hold on, don't jump to conclusions. I've already conducted the experiment on myself. I implanted a microchip with ‘Quintessence’ and, as you can see, I'm alive and well. This experiment is the best confirmation of my words,” Gustos replied confidently.

“Risking your own life... That really puts things in a different perspective,” the doctor remarked seriously. “But one experiment isn't enough to guarantee the safety and effectiveness of the method. Before I can accept your offer, I need to thoroughly study all the data.”

“I understand your caution, and it's entirely justified,” Gustos nodded. “I’ll provide you with all the necessary materials tomorrow morning.”

“Forgive my persistence, but I need to be sure,” Gustos continued calmly. “Are you ready to join our team?”

“I need time to think. I have doubts and one condition: if I agree, I want to continue working from my current office. This is important to me,” the doctor replied thoughtfully.

“I sense a hint of agreement in your condition – that's a good sign for me. And of course, you can keep your office.”

“The next question: if I understand correctly, after implantation, the chip integrates into the human body much like another organ, not just a technological device. Is that right?”

“Yes, you’ve got it right. The chip doesn’t just implant, it integrates with the body at a biochemical level, which makes the process rather complex. I don’t have much time left today; do you have any more questions?”

“Your resume doesn’t contain information about your activities over the past twenty years,” the doctor continued.

“This information isn’t crucial,” Gustos replied confidently. “I consciously omitted that period. Most of that time I worked on projects for the Ministry of Defence, and the details of my work are confidential.”

“We’re short on time,” Gustos said, glancing at his watch. “But I’ll give you until tomorrow to think everything over. My contact details are in the resume. I await your response and hope it will be beneficial for both you and all of us.”

2.An exit always exists

Cell twenty-three in this wing of the prison was narrow and cold. The cracked walls resembled a map, and the weak light from a small window near the ceiling only deepened the gloom. On either side of the cell stood metal bunk beds with sagging mattresses. Scattered on the floor between them were books, torn newspapers, and random belongings. The air smelled of dampness and tobacco.

Frank lay on the lower bunk, one arm tucked under his head, lazily flipping the corner of an old newspaper. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, drawing closer.

“Open cell twenty-three!” barked the guard, Don, into his radio — but the door stayed shut.

“You sure drop by here a lot, Don. Got a secret romance with this place?” Frank said with a smirk, not lifting his head.

“Why I’m here is none of your business,” Don snapped.

Frank chuckled. “Relax, just saying. But hey, your voice’s getting raspier. Maybe time to quit those two packs a day? Health’s a one-shot deal.”

Don let out a dry cough and half-smiled. “Morning concern, as always. But what are you so cheerful about?”

“What else am I supposed to do? You're the one who shows up here for entertainment,” Frank replied. “By the way, I can hear the yelling from the control room. Sounds like your guys are more into the game than the job.”

Don cursed under his breath and radioed again. “Open the damn door!”

From the top bunk, Frank’s cellmate grumbled, “Hey, keep it down, will you? People rest on Sundays.”

Don laughed. “Looks like you’ve got competition in the sarcasm department, Frank.”

At last, the cell door creaked open. “Move it,” Don ordered curtly.

Frank rose unhurriedly and walked to the exit, arms crossed behind his back like he was strolling through a park.

In the visitation room, his son was already sitting at the table. Frank paused for a second, then took a seat across from him.

“Hey, Dad. How are you?” his son asked, searching his face.

“I’m fine, son. Don’t worry,” Frank answered with a faint smile.

“You look tired. Something happen?” his son frowned.

Frank shrugged. “Nothing much. Just... thoughts, sometimes.”

“Talk to me. Maybe I can help,” his son insisted.

Frank was silent for a moment, then smirked. “Come on, it’s nothing. What matters is that you’re doing okay.”

His son shook his head. “You can’t fool me. What’s bothering you?”

Frank sighed. “Sometimes the past just… finds a way back.”

Suddenly, his son said quietly, “It’s because of Goustos, isn’t it?”

Frank tensed. His face turned serious. “Listen, stay out of that. Goustos is dangerous.”

“I’m not going to sit around doing nothing, Dad. I’ll find a way to help you.”

Frank shook his head. “Leave it alone. You don’t understand what you’re up against. The only thing that can get me out of here is a miracle.”

At that moment, the door opened. The guard signaled that time was up.

His son looked at him with unwavering determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out. I will find that miracle. I promise.”

Frank spoke softly: “Don’t, Henry. Just take care of yourself.”

Henry left the room, wiping away tears with his sleeve. But in his eyes burned a fierce resolve. He walked toward the exit, each step filling him with growing certainty that he would free his father.

But even that kind of belief couldn’t prepare him for the trials waiting ahead.

3.An Unusual Encounter

The next morning, Henry woke up with a feeling of inexplicable anxiety. As usual, he turned on the television and heard the crisp voices of news anchors. As the screen flooded the room with its cold light, he headed to the bathroom.

Brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, Henry stared into his brown eyes, as if trying to understand his inner enemy. He began to talk to himself.

"Oh God, everything is so complicated," he thought. "Yeah, what did I tell my dad... 'I can do it all, Dad, I'll... I'll find a job, I can hire a lawyer.' Who am I kidding? Interviews are just a nightmare for me. I can't even gather my thoughts, let alone speak without a quiver in my voice. And getting a job with Gustos and digging up some evidence against him... What nonsense! If only there were some sign from above about what to do."

Henry looked at the photograph of his father on the dressing table. His father looked back at him from under the glass, his eyes radiating confidence and hope.

"Maybe this is my sign," Henry quietly said, averting his eyes from the photo. "It's time to pull myself together and face my fears. All for him. And for me."

Just then, breaking news came on, and Henry involuntarily listened.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! Today we bring you exciting news that will define the course of this momentous year 2033. The widely-known agency 'In the Reflection of Dreams' is on the verge of introducing a groundbreaking innovation ready to change the technological landscape. Given the growing anticipation, this announcement promises to be nothing short of sensational. As the world holds its breath, the agency 'In the Reflection of Dreams' is preparing to unveil a new gadget that has garnered immense attention from the tech community. It's expected that this gadget, shrouded in mystery until now, will overshadow its competitors and open a new era of technological wonders. As a remarkable demonstration of innovation, the agency plans to hold a gathering of brilliant minds, including scientists, experts, and journalists, who will witness the presentation firsthand. This event will take place today at two in the afternoon! Hurry to see it, don't miss out!"

Hearing the news, Henry dashed out of the bathroom in his underwear, toothbrush in mouth, and turned up the volume on the TV. He stood still, holding the toothbrush to his mouth, and after listening to the news, he went back into the bathroom, his mind still racing with thoughts about the news. Just as he entered, his dog barked and the front door opened. Someone shouted from there:

"Henry, are you home? Hope you're not naked or in the company of someone?"

From the far end of the apartment, from the bathroom, came the reply: "No, I'm getting dressed! Come in, Aunt Emma!"

Entering the house, Aunt Emma looked around and couldn't help muttering, "When will you learn to clean up after yourself? Everything is scattered!" Her hands were already in motion, bringing order to the chaos when her words faded. Meanwhile, Henry's energetic dog was darting around, barking joyfully and adding to the mayhem.

"Henry, did you walk the dog today?" she shouted.

"No, if it's not too much trouble, could you please take her out? I need to leave quickly!" Henry slipped out of the bathroom and quickly pecked Aunt Emma on the cheek. "By the way, do you have a new perfume? Smells different somehow."

Aunt Emma smirked, "No, it's the same perfume. Don't flatter me. And yes, I got a haircut. But what's it to you?"

Henry looked at her, evaluating: "Ah, I see! I thought something had changed. Sorry, I didn't notice right away. And by the way, could you make me a sandwich? I'll be getting dressed."

She sighed but smiled, "Alright, wait."

A few minutes later, Henry, checking the time, grabbed the sandwich, yelled at the door: "Thanks, Aunt Emma! See you in the evening!" and disappeared.

Aunt Emma watched him go: "Ah, the youth... always in a rush somewhere."

Stepping out of his yard, Henry quickly pulled out his phone and swiftly typed "Gustos Tower" into the search. The desired location quickly appeared on the phone screen, and Henry muttered to himself, "So, which bus should I take? Ah, there it is." With a growing sense of determination, he identified the appropriate bus number and route.

Just as he was feeling confident in his plans, a sudden blow struck him. It was so sudden and unexpected that Henry didn't even see who or what had knocked him down. Before he knew it, he was airborne, plunging to the ground. The abrupt landing knocked the wind out of him, and he let out a pained groan, thinking, "What the hell just happened?"

Trying to regain his senses, Henry heard another voice nearby. "Oh God, I almost got run over! Who is this?" The voice carried a mixture of irritation and curiosity. As his vision cleared, he noticed a man lying next to him. Their eyes met, and almost in unison, they exclaimed, "Henry! Zane!"

Henry extended his hand for a friendly handshake. "Zane, old buddy, long time no see."

"Yeah, about a decade if not more," Zane replied, grinning from ear to ear. "What are you doing here?"

"This area is kind of my home," Henry said, glancing towards the walls of his old house. "I still live here."

Zane looked around at the old brickwork and cracked paint. "Nice neighborhood, especially the nearby park. But it looks like the house isn't doing so well. The walls are starting to crumble."

"Yeah, it's long overdue for repairs," Henry admitted. "But you know what else I remember? You had a magnificent head of hair back in school and always complained about how hot it made you."

Zane laughed, running his hand through his short-cropped hair. "Yeah, times change. And you're still the same — sticking by your home despite all its flaws."

Henry, sitting on the edge of the sofa in the room's dim light, furrowed his brow and looked at Zane quizzically. "Tell me, Zane, how are you doing? What brings you to these parts? And what are you up to now?"

Zane smiled, as if trying to recognize a familiar face through the fog. "Wow, you always get straight to the point. So many questions."

At that moment, Henry looked at him with some concern, as if searching for answers in the eyes of his old friend. "You seem as reserved as ever, Zane. Still keeping secrets like in school days. So what or who are you looking for? Noticed you've been looking around a lot."

Zane paused for a moment, his gaze dimming. "Not everything is going smoothly, Henry. Some things are better left behind a curtain of silence," Zane replied with a hint of a strained smile.

"By the way, my damn phone is acting up. It broke, and I can't remember what the number was, so now I have no idea how to get to Gustosa Tower."

"Oh, you're headed downtown to Gustosa Tower? Perfect timing! I'll help you. Fortunately, my phone is working fine, and we can catch up and reminisce about the past. I'm going that way too."

"So you're also going to the presentation?"

Zane excitedly looked at the bus stop sign. "Look, bus number 69! Well, what are you waiting for, let's run!"

As if they were back in the schoolyard where the starting whistle had just sounded, they started running down the sidewalk. Zane, smiling like in the good old days, finished first and waited triumphantly for Henry at the bus stop.

"Come on, hurry up, there's room!" Zane pointed further into the bus.

Henry glanced at an elderly woman slowly making her way to an empty seat. "Let her sit, Henry," he said, "we can stand."

"What?" Zane shook his head, puzzled. "We also paid for a ticket. I'm sitting down." He jumped into the seat, claiming it as his rightful territory. "Don't worry, someone will give her a seat. It's not our problem."

Henry sighed, remembering that even though times may change, some things remain the same.

With a hint of self-assuredness, Zane settled into the empty seat, deciding that the world was already too full of sacrifices. The woman, as if understanding that he wouldn't yield his seat to her, pierced him with her gaze. Henry, sensing this, was prepared to offer her his seat, but something in her look stopped him. Perhaps it was resentment, or simply fatigue from many similar situations.

She walked past, and Henry saw her shoulders slightly droop. At the far end of the bus, someone gave up their seat for her, and she finally sat down, settling in by the window.

Henry returned to Zane and sat next to him. His gaze lingered on the woman's figure in the rearview mirror. "I wonder," he thought, "what does she see looking out the window? Does she see us or just reflections of her own disappointments?"

Zane, noticing his friend lost in thought, slapped him on the shoulder. "What are you thinking about? Let's go!"

Henry smiled, but there was something off about that smile. They settled into their seats on the bus, which slowly began to move forward.

"So, we have time until the next stop. How are your parents, Henry? Oh, wait... You said that your mom... I apologize for bringing it up."

Henry nodded, his eyes dimly shimmering. "Yes, my mom passed away early... And it's complicated with my dad. He's been in prison for five years. I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand, sorry for bringing up the topic. How is your family situation otherwise?"

Zane sighed, "You remember, my dad left when I was still a kid. I live with my mom and sister now."

"I get you. But Zane, why do you keep looking around? Is something bothering you?"

Zane smirked, avoiding Henry's gaze. "No, everything's fine. Just a habit." But his smile looked forced, and Henry noticed that something was off.

Henry cast an anxious glance at two suspicious men who were watching them. "Zane, are those your friends? Are you involved in something sketchy?" he asked, concerned.

Zane was silent for a few seconds, then replied, "Don't worry, it doesn't matter. Just ignore it."

"Are you sure? They clearly want something from us," Henry insisted.

"Come on. Hey, there's our stop! Let's go!" Zane quickly changed the subject.

Exiting the bus, they found themselves at the majestic Gustosa Tower. "Wow, just look at that! This architecture... glass, metal — it's just amazing!" Henry couldn't hide his admiration.

Zane, pointing to the crowd at the building, said, "It looks like there's a protest happening. Can you read what's on their banners?"

Henry took a closer look, "It's most likely anti-globalists. We should be careful walking past them."

"Zane, I don't understand what's happening," Henry tried to make his way through the crowd, trying to discern the slogans on the protesters' placards.

"All these protests... they're related to Gustosa's new gadget. People are afraid of change, afraid of new technologies," Zane explained.

"But this is progress!" Henry was indignant, "How can you resist innovations that could change our world for the better?"

Zane shook his head. "It's not that simple, Henry. Some people see new technologies as a threat, a loss of jobs, or even an invasion of their personal lives."

Henry paused, trying to read one of the signs: "Technology Against Humanity."

"You see?" Zane pointed out, "They're afraid that technology will replace human contact, that machines will control their lives."

Henry sighed. "We came here for innovations, and we find ourselves in the epicenter of a social conflict. Well, let's make our way inside. We can't miss the presentation."

Zane nodded, and both headed towards the entrance, preparing for possible confrontations with the protesters. But deep down, Henry felt that this day would be a turning point not only for technology but for himself as well.

"Excuse us! We need to get through," Zane said politely but firmly, pushing through the crowd.

Due to the commotion, someone in the crowd started shouting, "Hey, they're trying to get in! Don't let them!"

Quickening their pace, Zane and Henry swiftly made it to the entrance. "Some people are so unruly!" Zane exhaled as they entered.

Inside the building, approaching the registration desk, Henry spoke to the girl: "Excuse me, we're here for the new gadget presentation. Where will it be?"

The girl, a bit preoccupied with a phone conversation, replied, "One moment."

Meanwhile, Zane was curiously examining the interior: "What's this structure in the middle of the hall? It looks archaic!"

Henry looked in the indicated direction: "Ah, that? I heard a story about a scientist who refused to move out of the old building. Apparently, he had his quirks. So his office remains here, right at the heart of this technological marvel."

"Wow," Zane laughed, "truly a stunning contrast. Antiquity surrounded by the latest technology. Stylish!"

The girl at the registration looked at them, scrutinizing carefully. "Are you here for the presentation?" she addressed Henry.

"Yes, indeed," Henry confirmed, feeling slightly uneasy.

"You've almost missed it. The presentation is on the second floor, in the large hall. But before you go there, these two," she nodded towards the entrance, where the same men from the bus were standing, "are they with you?"

Henry's gaze darted to the entrance. Seeing the tough-looking men, he was lost for words. "Zane! It's... it's them!"

Zane, pretending to be fully engrossed in admiration of the architecture, slowly turned his head towards Henry. "Yes, yes, everything's fine," he replied, feigning ignorance about what was going on. "Let's not be late. We're here for the presentation, right?"

They quickly headed for the stairs, trying to leave the unpleasant incident behind. The hall was filled with anticipation. Journalists were preparing their cameras, and guests were whispering, looking forward to the upcoming show. Henry and Zane squeezed through the rows, found empty seats, and sat down. A few moments later, the presentation began.

The head of the "Gustos" agency stepped onto the stage, delighting every guest in the room. "What a wonderful gathering! I'm very pleased to see all of you here!" he began.

Zane furrowed his brows. "I've heard of this Gustos guy. Is he the one who was one-eyed?"

Henry nodded. "You're right. But when he founded this agency, he invited the best of the best. One of them made him an artificial eye. They say this eye has incredible capabilities. It can see through people and even walls."

Zane shrugged. "Sounds like an urban legend. And by the way, how do you know all these details?"

Henry smiled. "In the industry, he's known as 'EYE.' Even after he replaced his real eye, the nickname stuck."

At that moment, Gustos raised his voice: "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the soul and heart of our agency — Doctor Dzi!" The hall erupted in applause.

Zane smirked mockingly: "Ah, so there's the 'eccentric.' I've heard he spends time in that ancient structure. Must be his office there."

"Exactly," Henry confirmed.

The Doctor, smiling at Gustos, said, "Thank you, Gustos, for your warm introduction. I have something special for you all today." He paused, allowing the room to feel the tension of the moment. "Our new gadget, which I will present to you today, will change your perception of technology."

The room held its breath in anticipation, and the Doctor added, "But let's not waste time on words. Let the image speak for itself!"

The lights in the hall dimmed, creating an atmosphere of intrigue. A loud narrator's voice began: "Dive into a world where the impossible becomes reality..."

I remember it all as if it were yesterday…

It was another insatiable day that couldn't stay in this all-consuming hustle. It slipped away with the last rays of the sun, which jumped across the rooftops of houses, disappearing into utter darkness. Darkness was hot on its heels and was already very close. Its cold breath was felt everywhere; the city plunged into bottomless darkness where you could find whatever you wished. There you could find your indelible memories, about anything; you could break into other people's incredible dreams and choose what you would like to feel today. Would you like to feel again the warm touch of a loved one, whom you will never meet again? And look into their eyes again, which you can't forget, and feel them beside you. Meet the one with whom you will never see again. Say very simple but important words. Sit on cool sand after a hot day at the beach, enjoying the sunset, or go for a swim at night in a silent warm ocean, enjoying the magical phosphorescent plankton on a lonely azure beach. Where the waves play hide and seek. Jump thoughtlessly into a childhood covered in rainbow memories, in which even all the shades of the rainbow could not describe the endless array of colors of joy and happiness. Remember everything you would like, and never let it go again, and feel these unforgettable sensations all the time, and wake up only to realize that it's all not happening in reality! Be immersed in these unforgettable memories forever, and enjoy them again and again, and again… would you like to stay there? If yes, then come with us from the agency "In the Reflection of Dreams" to meet your desires, and we will turn your dreams into reality.

On the hologram, demonstrations were shown of how the gadget could be used in various spheres of life: from gaming and entertainment to work and study using images of dreams and memories. After the video finished, the lights came back on the stage, and the Doctor, looking at the screen, said, "Dear friends, the time has come for a new era of technology. Thank you for being with us today!"

The hall was filled with loud applause and enthusiastic shouts. Zeyn and Henry exchanged impressions, realizing they had witnessed a historic moment.

"Doctor Ji" began to move animatedly around the stage and continued his speech: "I present to your attention the FusionBand-2000—your personal portal to the world of dreams. This gadget not only allows you to record and view your dreams but also to share them with others. People have striven for centuries to decode the mysterious language of dreams. FusionBand-2000 removes this barrier. Now you can not only relive your own dreams but also feel the emotions of other people by entering their dreams."

The atmosphere in the hall became tense with curiosity and excitement. The idea was truly revolutionary.

The covers were lifted, revealing the capsules. They sparkled on the table under the spotlight. "You can come closer and examine the device. Inside this capsule is the revolution of dreaming!"

Many of the visitors stood up, eager to touch the new product. The noise in the hall increased, but the speaker's voice remained confident.

"Thanks to innovations in technology, FusionBand-2000 ensures absolute confidentiality for each of your dreams. Your inner world is protected. Now only you decide which dreams to bring to reality and which to leave deep in your subconscious."

This moment opened new horizons in the field of dream research. Everyone present felt the historical significance of this instant.

"Where does consciousness begin and the subconscious end? Where is the fine line between the world of reality and the mysterious world of dreams? Where is the lie and where is the truth? Today only we can show that the world of your dreams can become as real as your everyday life. We are ready to make your dreams the foundation of your reality, and vice versa. We invite you to rethink your life, enriching it with new experiences and emotions."

"So, Zeyn, what do you think of the presentation?" Henry began, trying to catch his friend's gaze.

"It was... interesting. But I feel like someone is watching us," Zeyn said, quickly scanning the hall.

"Are you talking about those guys?" Henry nodded towards the upper tier, where several tough-looking men were staring at them.

Before Zeyn could answer, a deep voice made them turn around.

"Hey, guys! What are you doing in this lofty tower?" said a huge man in a security uniform.

"Fisher?" Henry gasped in surprise. "Donkey Fisher, you work here?"

"Judging by the badge, yes," Zeyn replied, looking at the security guard with a smile.

"Fisher slapped himself on his pumped-up chest, where a badge glittered. 'Security, I'm on duty!'"

Zeyn chuckled, "Just like the good old days at school. Still the same tough nut to crack."

"And who would have thought we'd run into you here?" Henry added. "This day is just full of surprises."

Fisher winked, "Well, that's for sure. I hope you'll enjoy your time here."

"Guys, how about a little tour? I'll show you what our engineers have been working on. We can chat along the way. What do you say?" Fisher suggested with a friendly smile.

Zeyn looked worriedly at Henry, then replied, "Sounds interesting. Why not."

Fisher carefully looked Zeyn over. "Are you okay? You seem... tense."

Zeyn quickly raised his eyes to meet Fisher's, then looked away. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, trying to sound convincing, but his smile gave him away.

"Great, let's go then," said Fisher, heading toward the new devices.

As they went downstairs, Zeyn quickly moved to one of the capsules, as if trying to distract himself. Henry and Fisher were left alone.

"So what brings you here? Clearly not just for the presentation," Fisher said thoughtfully.

Henry sighed, "I'm looking for a job. Been unsuccessful for six months now. Aunt Emma keeps pressuring me to find something worthwhile. And I... I've always dreamed of working here. This place gathers the best of the best."

"You know, about the job, I might be able to help you," Fisher began, seizing the moment.

"Really?" Henry looked at him hopefully.

"Of course. I have good relations with Jane from HR. I can arrange a meeting for you. You're an old friend; she'll definitely listen to my recommendation."

Henry smiled, "Thank you, that's really cool."

Fisher squinted, "By the way, what do you think Zeyn is up to? I've heard he's involved in industrial espionage."

"What?! No way!" Henry was clearly surprised.

"He's already been involved in some suspicious stories. Be careful around him. There could be trouble."

Henry nodded, his look becoming cautious. "Speaking of which, I noticed a couple of strangers today who have been watching us since I met Zeyn."

"Got it, I'll keep an ear out. Now, tell me, what do you think of the capsule?" Fisher tried to steer the conversation to a lighter note.

"Impressive. It looks like a spaceship from the future!"

At that moment, an elegant woman with long hair appeared. "Ah, there's Jane!" said Fisher, waving his hand. "Jane! Over here!"

Jane quickly approached them and, with a sarcastic smile, turned to Fisher: "Ah, so this is where you are. Why did you disappear yesterday? I was waiting for your call!"

Fisher blushed slightly: "I apologize, Jane. Some urgent matters came up that I couldn't refuse. But I'll make it up to you, I promise."

She raised an eyebrow, sparkling with mischief: "I hope your apologies are as impressive as that absence."

"Oh, and who is this mysterious one? Chestnut hair and eyes... That's so rare and so attractive!" Jane said in admiration, evaluating Henry.

"Meet Henry," Fisher replied, observing their interaction. "He's looking for a job. Do you have any options for him?"

"Yes, I would be happy to consider his application. Especially since I like guys in his style: not too tall, of moderate build," Jane added with a smirk.

"Be careful there!" Fisher joked, winking at Henry. "I'm sure you have a girlfriend, right, Henry?"

Henry, not expecting this turn of events, stuttered slightly, "At the moment... no."

"Looks like your friend is available," Jane said, playfully winking. "How about spending the evening together, Henry? Shall we start with a cup of coffee?"

All Henry could do was exhale in surprise, while Fisher nervously watched the situation unfold.

"Oh, Henry! As much as I'd like to get to know you better, let's start with the job hunt," Jane smiled, her eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, Jane. I would like my friend Zeyn to come along. Is that okay?" Henry was a bit unsure.

"A friend? Do we really need him?" Jane looked around and said.

"Come on, Jane. Don't tease the guy," Fisher put his hand on Henry's shoulder.

"What if I want to?" Jane raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Zeyn, come here!" Henry called out to his friend.

Coming closer, Zeyn looked at Jane curiously. Henry introduced, "Zeyn, this is Jane. She will help us with the job."

"Wow, Fisher! You brought two handsome men with you!" Jane chuckled, and Fisher rolled his eyes.

"Enough playing around, Jane. We're here for work," Fisher said.

"Fine, fine. Follow me, my heroes," Jane smirked, turned, and walked ahead.

Zeyn frowned and whispered to Henry, "Who is she?"

"Just follow her and smile if you want the tail to be lost," Henry quickly replied, and both followed Jane.

Reaching the tenth floor in the elevator, Jane said, "Sit here, I'll bring the forms, and you fill them out."

"So what are we even doing here?" Zeyn asked.

"I'm looking for a job here; any will do," Henry replied.

"Here? But why do you want to work here?" Zeyn inquired.

"I need it, and do you happen to know why Fisher works here? All his family works in the police force, and he's here as a security guard," Henry wondered.

"It seems he couldn't pass the exams for the police academy, even though everyone in his family got in. Last time, he even got into a fight during the exam and got kicked out. So, he apparently decided to work as a security guard," Zeyn explained.

"I haven't heard anything about him since graduation," Zeyn said.

"So, what do you do for work now? You didn't tell me," Henry insisted.

"See for yourself," smiling, Zeyn handed Henry his business card and playfully tucked it into his top pocket.

Just at that moment, Jane returned and said, "Take the forms and start filling them out." They got to work.

While they were filling out the forms, Jane began to express dissatisfaction with Fisher, his disrespectful attitude toward her, and his behavior. Zeyn interrupted her, asking, "Excuse me, can we go now?"

"Yes, of course, wait here. I'll bring the forms to the 'Dream Supply Manager,' colloquially known as 'DSM,'" Jane answered.

"To whom?" Zeyn clarified.

"To the Dream Supply Manager, or DSM for short," Jane explained.

"Does everyone here go by code names?" Zeyn was surprised. "Funny."

"Yes, it's more fun that way," Jane smiled. "Now I'll surprise you: I'm offering you the position of 'MOG.'"

"What is that position?" Zeyn asked in confusion, looking at the form in front of him.

"It's an employee who guards subscribers' memories," Jane announced with a mysterious smile.

"Oh, that's... unusual!" Zeyn moved closer to Jane and whispered, "I'd even like a job like that."

Jane smirked, "Then wait here. We'll find out everything soon."

After the interview, Henry and Zeyn went down to Fisher, who was waiting for them at the entrance.

"So, how did it feel to be guardians of memories?" Fisher asked mockingly.

"We haven't decided anything yet. She promised to give an answer in a week," Henry grumbled.

Zeyn shrugged, "It's an interesting job. But what's with this Jane? Why is she so nervous?"

Fisher sighed, "Long story. I'll tell you some other time. But please, be kinder to her today. She's stressed out."

"I've already noticed," Zeyn said, his look becoming thoughtful.

"Maybe we can have a beer tomorrow? Discuss everything calmly?" Fisher suggested.

They cautiously left the building. The street was deserted, except for the headlights of a car flickering far away at the next intersection.

"Tomorrow evening?" Henry clarified.

"Tomorrow," Fisher nodded.

As the figures of Henry and Zeyn receded, Fisher anxiously looked around. Anxiety flickered in his eyes, as if he feared missing something in their retreating silhouettes. However, after a brief moment of reflection, Fisher took a deep breath, turned around, and headed back.

4.Flight of the Butterfly

In absolute darkness, reflecting nothing, lonely rays of light approached, attracting with incredible vitality. Crossing the bridge between darkness and light, the butterfly silenced the silent quietude in an atmosphere of joy, anxiety, and pain. Rising and falling, it glided through the coarse air, charged with inescapable memories, and only it could touch the whisper of thoughts that sometimes shuddered with endless pleasures and unforgettable memories. Sensing the sharper light, it began to desperately fight not for life, but for a single moment, just so that the morning's insatiable memories would take it with them.

Under the influence of the first rays of the rising sun and in the light of the last twinkling of the night butterfly's wings, the agency corridors filled with a piercing, inhuman scream. This unforeseen and sharp sound dispelled the dead silence, driving sleep out of every corner of the building.

Henry jumped up, feeling the cold table under his cheek. Night shifts, in which he participated under the pseudonym " MOG" were rarely without incidents. However, the scream this night was something special. For a fraction of a second, it seemed to him that it was all just a bad dream, but he quickly returned himself to reality, scanning the room. His eyes stopped at an empty cup. "Coffee," he thought, "I need coffee now more than ever."

Slightly swaying, Henry headed to the coffee machine. His hand automatically chose a latte with hazelnut syrup and added a sugar cube. As the coffee poured, he tried to recall what had awakened him, but every time it seemed that the answer was close, it slipped away, leaving Henry bewildered. He stared at the coffee machine, where the last drop of coffee slowly detached itself and fell into the cup. Each drop seemed like an eternity, and it was in this slowing down that he felt something strange.

A quiet, barely audible squeak interrupted his thoughts. The sound came from afar, like an echo from his dreams. But then something clicked in his mind. This sound... it was familiar to him. It was the alarm signal of one of the "spicepers*." Realizing the urgency of the moment, Henry didn't waste time looking for a cardboard holder for his hot cup of coffee. Not finding one, he unhesitatingly grabbed the cup and immediately headed towards the source of the squeak.

Bursting into a large room filled with sleeping dream-dreamers*, barely lit by the light of monitors, a red light blinked on the screen of the spiceper. Such a signal indicated alarming memories from the dream-dreamer, which could become dangerous. Approaching, Henry saw flashing images on the screen: the dream-dreamer was likely a rock climber, and his memories stopped at the moment of his fall. But, to Henry's surprise, he did not crash. "Another adrenaline junkie," Henry thought and turned off the sound alarm.

Lifting the coffee to his lips and heading back to the exit, Henry felt a strange chill. Some whisper, almost invisible against the background of machine sounds, spoke his name: "Henry." He slowly turned around, scanning the dark corners of the room. The whisper was heard again, this time accompanied by a melody that sounded as if it came from the depths of his childhood. Henry's touched heart began to pound wildly in his chest.

Spiceper - helps recall dreams or memories for a specific date and display them on screen.

Dream-dreamer - a person immersed in their memories, they can feel them continuously.

Turning around and seeing a capsule in which a person was mouthing words, Henry recognized the face from his dream; his heart seemed to stop for a fraction of a second. In this dimmed room, where monitors continuously flickered, mysterious words were heard. Henry moved toward this familiar face, not taking his eyes off it. With every step he took, the sense of déjà vu became increasingly vivid. His eyes, fixed on the spiceper's screen, instantly immersed him in a whirlpool of long-forgotten feelings and memories.

The screen unfolded a street from his childhood, trees, noisy children playing tag, and the entrance of the old building where he grew up. But what made his breath catch was the figure of a boy who looked just like his best friend from childhood.

The coffee almost burned his hand, and he hurriedly switched the cup to the other hand. These were their shared adventures, their secret places, and the laughter that filled the air. Clutching his chest, a wave of DSMtalgia hit Henry. This dream-dreamer was his friend, with whom paths diverged after school when Henry moved away. The sudden realization of loss and the fact that they hadn't seen each other for so many years pierced him.

In the shade of the courtyard trees, Henry observed his friend Tom and a girl who were sitting on a bench opposite each other. From their childish voices emanated playfulness, and every time their gazes met, the girl shyly smiled. Henry leaned against the wall, trying to be unnoticed, and intently listened to their conversation. Naively, Tom asked the girl whom she loved more: him or Henry.

Seconds stretched out, and the girl deliberately pretended to be deep in thought, savoring the moment. Just then, a man walked surprisingly quickly past them, carrying a strange chest with mysterious inscriptions. Tom was momentarily distracted, watching the man. The girl looked like she was about to say something but hesitated. Her heart pounded with excitement, and she suddenly felt afraid of making the wrong choice. Tom, noticing her hesitation, realized that what was happening was important. He turned his gaze away from the departing man and looked at her again, but the girl remained silent. He felt like something significant had slipped away from him.

The man, while the girl was avoiding an answer, opened the door of a car parked nearby and spoke excitedly to the person inside. The sounds of their conversation seemed to come from far away, as if they were in another dimension.

In the depths of Henry's memory, a legend about the mysterious chest rang out. Memories of his grandfather's stories about a magical artifact stored inside flooded his mind. Now, with the chest so close, Henry's pulse quickened, creating an anxious feeling. "This is exactly what I need," he thought, "this miracle will help me save my father." A few minutes later, the car drove away, leaving Tom, the girl, and Henry in dust and confusion.

In an attempt to gather evidence for future investigation, Henry hurriedly began to take out his phone, but his hands were shaking, and coffee spilled on the floor. The world seemed to stop as he missed the chance to capture the car's license plate.

Immersed in his thoughts and busy wiping up the spilled coffee, Henry remained alert, his eyes glued to the screen as if expecting the same car to reappear in his field of vision.

At this tense moment, Fisher, the agency's security guard, approached him. Seeing Henry on his knees with a napkin in hand, he smiled and said:

"What are you doing here, Henry? Praying? Or is this some kind of dream ritual?"

Henry looked at him, as if weighing whether to share his concerns. But the decision was quickly made: now was neither the time nor the place. He got up from the floor, and for a split second, his gaze crossed the screen displaying memories from dreams.

"There's no time for explanations," Henry quietly said. "But these aren't just snippets from dreams."

Fisher furrowed his brows, trying to delve into the depths of Henry's gaze. Something in his eyes made Fisher understand: the situation was much more serious than he had thought.

"What are you talking about?" Fisher was genuinely concerned because Henry was one of those people who didn't panic without reason.

"Remember that old legend about my grandfather's chest? The one that disappeared last century and is rumored to hold something incredibly valuable?" Henry looked up, as if seeking understanding in Fisher's eyes.

Fisher nodded, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. "You're saying that this chest is... here, now?"

Henry sighed, directing his gaze back to the screen. "I think I just saw it. And now we need to somehow track down that car."

Pondering, Fisher rubbed his chin and noted, "Alright, let's try to come up with something. But first, get off the floor. I don't think we'll find a solution while you're on your knees."

The air in the room grew even heavier when "DSM," a famous and highly authoritative member of the institution's leadership, walked in. His presence always called for caution, and anyone who worked there knew better than to catch his eye.

Fisher, noticing how Henry involuntarily tensed up, smiled and whispered,

"Why did you bump into 'DSM' again?"

Henry, trying to keep his composure, quickly responded:

"One of the dreamers started reacting too violently to their memories. We decided to check what's happening."

"DSM" carefully surveyed the room; his eyes were like two icy drills. Then he looked at Henry:

"DSM" fixed his gaze on Henry, as if trying to read his thoughts. Henry felt as if every cell in his body was pierced by that piercing look. Then "DSM" nodded, acknowledging that their attention to detail was justified in this situation.

"Continue with your work," he said, leaving the room and taking away with him the heaviness of the atmosphere.

"We decided to elevate this client to a higher level of control. His memories have become too dangerous for his health. All for the client's good."

Henry nodded in agreement, understanding that the opportunity to photograph the car's license plate had slipped away. He quickly got to his feet, avoiding eye contact with "DSM."

"I understand," said Henry, trying not to show his disappointment.

When "DSM" left, Fisher turned to Henry:

"So what did you need to find out about that car? What are you planning, Henry?"

Henry took a deep breath, realizing that someday he would have to reveal his concerns to his longtime friend. But could he rely on him? "Not today," he decided, feeling the need to think everything through on his own.

***

Henry ended another workday at the agency, consumed with thoughts about that unexpected morning event. He was restless, trying to recall the license plate of the car that flashed in his friend's memories. Given that the room where his friend was staying was part of preparation for transitioning to a new level, penetrating it seemed practically impossible. However, suddenly another option for obtaining information appeared.

Returning home, Henry entered the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. Suddenly a shout rang out: "Wait! Hold the door!" Henry held the elevator door, and a security guard burst into the cabin, dragging a recliner bed with a person in a comatose state. Henry quickly glanced at the panel of buttons, trying to notice which floor the security guard had selected. The elevator slowly began its movement, and in the stifling silence, a melody suddenly rang out—familiar and DSMtalgic. It was the same melody that had sounded in his friend's memories that morning.

The security guard stood with his back turned; Henry couldn't contain his excitement. "Vlad? Is that you?" he asked the guard.

The security guard, casting a fleeting glance at Henry, nodded. "Yes, Henry, it's me. Long time no see."

Henry instantly connected the dots in his head. "You know him?" he gestured towards the dreamer.

"This is not just a dreamer; this is my childhood friend Tom, Henry. And you know it," Vlad paused, choosing his words. "He's stuck in his memories."

Henry said somberly, "Yes, I heard that melody this morning. But what happened to him, and where are you taking him?"

Vlad, taking a deep breath, said, "To a special level. I hope they can help him; there's nothing more I can say."

The rest of the time on the way to the first floor passed in silence. Henry understood the importance of the moment and the far-reaching consequences of this encounter. When the elevator doors opened, he went his way, filled with apprehensions and questions about what had really happened to his friend.

At the deserted bus stop where only the wind danced its waltz with leaves and trash, Henry sat down on a wooden bench. His thoughts about finding his friend and the mysterious license plate number were suddenly interrupted by an unexpected deep voice.

"Do you ever think about the purpose of existence?" the question sounded, as if from the depths of his own soul.

Henry's heart began to beat wildly. Reflexively, he jumped up and noticed a man on the bench; he had not paid attention to him before because he was lost in his thoughts. The stranger was in shabby clothes, with an unshaven beard and a mysterious gaze.

Maintaining distance, Henry moved to the other end of the bench. Nonetheless, the mysterious guest was relentless: "So what do you think is the meaning?"

Surveying the empty streets, Henry decided he might as well talk while waiting for the bus. He gave a wry smile and answered, "To start a family, raise children, pass on knowledge to them."

The stranger thoughtfully nodded. "That's one way to look at it. But for me, the main thing is to live a life with dignity. Many people, looking at me, would think, 'What can a homeless man know about the dignity of life?' But I lived differently until everything went to hell. Life experience brings understanding, regardless of external circumstances."

"You know, Henry," the homeless man stared at the twinkling lights in the distance, "many people think that a dignified life is all about career, money, cars, a big house. But I've realized those are just illusions. The real meaning lies in how you interact with the world, what kind of relationships you build with people, and what you leave behind."

He paused for a moment, then continued: "In my previous life, I was a businessman. I had it all: money, power, respect. But at one point, I lost myself. Stuck in my own ambitions, I forgot what truly mattered. Family, friends — they all took a backseat. And in the end, when I hit a rough patch, nobody came to help."

It was as if sadness hovered over him like a cloud. The homeless man closed his eyes and thoughtfully said, "Do you know what sets real value apart from gold and glitter? True value is invisible to the eye. It's in those moments when you feel another person's heartbeat next to you. It's in how you change the world around you, even without noticing."

Henry stared at him, trying to figure out what was happening. He hadn't even introduced himself to this man. "How do you..." he began, but the homeless man, smiling mysteriously, interrupted him: "Listen to your heart, Henry, and you'll find your way."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" Henry was bewildered. But the homeless man was already getting up, supporting himself with his hand. "Look, there comes your bus — 68, right?" His voice sounded distant and enigmatic. "And remember, when the path gets tough, look up to the sky, and you'll find your answer."

The bus stopped with a light groan of brakes, and Henry, as if absorbing the entire evening world, stepped into its warm womb. Frozen in thought, he tried to catch even a glimpse of the old man's figure in the dark streets, but all that lay ahead was engulfing darkness.

As the bus relentlessly made its way through the city, Henry's thoughts danced in a chaotic whirlpool. From memories of his friend to vivid childhood emotions, to those elusive memories of the girl who had touched his heart. And all these images, like stars in the night sky, twinkled in his consciousness, paving the way to a cherished idea.

By the time the bus slowly pulled up to the familiar stop, a picture of future actions had already crystallized in Henry's mind. His heart lightly beat in anticipation of a new day, full of possibilities and discoveries.

When the bus reached the required stop and Henry stepped onto the dark streets, thoughts of the vagrant returned. Walking down the narrow pathways of the city, Henry remembered the old man's words about answers sometimes waiting for us somewhere above. "Strange metaphor," he thought, lifting his eyes to the starry sky. He softly whispered, "What were you trying to tell me, old man?"

After his walk, Henry returned home, where a simple but tasty dinner from Aunt Emma awaited him. In the warmth of his home, reflecting on the events of the past day, he went to bed, hoping that in the world of dreams he would find the answers he was seeking in reality.

5.Hacking

As soon as the first rays of the morning sun painted the room in gentle pink and golden hues, Henry woke up feeling an extraordinary freshness. The dog greeted the morning with joyful tail wagging, and together they went for a walk. The city was waking up before their eyes, and the sounds of the morning movement mingled with the scent of wet earth and the coolness of the air. Upon returning, the smell of coffee and croissants emanating from the kitchen filled the home, turning it into a cozy refuge.

With a phone in his hand and thoughts flying off into the distance, Henry barely noticed the monotonous, almost robotic voice emanating from the shadows of the room: "How did you sleep, sir?"

Henry started. "Ah, Snowpiper*. That's you!"

"My apologies for the abruptness, sir," Snowpiper's machine voice continued impassively. "Your deep sleep phase remained stable for 1.5 hours. And again, as before, the mysterious girl appeared in your dream."

"Her again," Henry muttered, thoughtfully rubbing his temple. "What could it mean?"

Snowpiper, though devoid of feelings, seemed to experience an awkward silence. "If I were to describe all the details of your dream, it could be... overly personal. Would you like to receive analytical recommendations based on your dreams?"

Henry instantly poured himself another cup of coffee, his gaze sinking into the black abyss of the mug. "No, I don't want to know the details," he declared decisively, as if finally cutting off a thin thread of curiosity.

"May I know why?" Snowpiper, whose artificial intelligence usually remained neutral, hesitated for a second, as if expecting an answer with unusual interest.

"Are you going to play the same old record? Claim that I need to meet her, to understand her, but I can't. I've already said why. She's too... too good for me."

Snowpiper, a machine without feelings, responded with a surprising degree of humanity: "I sense tension in your voice, Henry. Am I mistaken?"

Henry replied sharply, clutching the cup full of hot coffee: "If you're going to be so intrusive, I'll just turn you off."

Snowpiper's tone remained impenetrable, despite all threats. "Maybe you really should pay attention to your solitude? Your emotions are becoming more tense."

Henry looked at the device, his gaze gently gliding over the smooth surface of the case. At that moment, he realized that Snowpiper, despite its mechanical nature, had become another mirror reflecting his inner world. And this mirror was mercilessly honest.

Henry snorted, preparing to express his thought, but Snowpiper interrupted him: "Sorry for the intrusion, but I have another observation. There is an anomaly in your memories." The words passed through Henry like a cold wind. He was momentarily speechless. "What anomaly?" he finally uttered, his eyes filled with an inquisitive sparkle.

Snowpiper is an innovative desktop device capable not only of recording dreams but also analyzing them for later review.

*Note: "Snowpiper" may be a unique name given to a character or device within your story.

"It's difficult for me to give a precise answer," continued Snowpiper, its voice maintaining a cold evenness, like a mirror without a reflection. "But your memories have been subjected to external influences. It's possible that some fragments of your memory have been added or removed."

A shadow of doubt crept onto Henry's face. His eyes, like two flickering stars in the dark sky, sought answers in the depths of Snowpiper's glassy "eyes." A thick silence hung in the room, only the soft sound of microchip buzzing disturbed the mysterious atmosphere.

"But that's impossible," Henry whispered, feeling his confident world beginning to crumble to pieces.

Snowpiper paused, full of unspoken words, and tried with its artificial mind to find the best course of action. "Are you saying someone has been playing with my memories, like a child with a dollhouse?" Henry could not hide the anxiety in his voice. His words were filled with perplexed fear.

Snowpiper "nodded," its mechanisms quickly adapting to Henry's emotional state. "Yes, sir! We live in a world where technology has reached such a level that manipulation of consciousness has become possible. It's unsettling, but it's a fact."

The assistant's words wove a dark thread into Henry's musings, and he understood that his life might never be the same again.

"And now what?" Henry's voice carried a deep desperation, as if he stood on the edge of an abyss. "How can I find out which of my memories are real and which are fiction?"

He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Snowpiper. "How the hell is this possible?" Henry roared, his hands clutching virtual intervals of air. He tried to pierce the casing of the machine with his gaze, searching for some echo in its cold metal.

Snowpiper "froze" for a moment, as if its artificial intelligence was scrolling through a series of possible responses. "A precise determination requires analysis," it finally said. "Unfortunately, sir, I lack the functions and devices for this task."

"Then let's start differently. I want to know the truth, whatever the cost," Henry said, his eyes blazing with determination, like stars on the brink of explosion.

At that moment, the figure of Zeyn surfaced in his memory — rumored to be involved in industrial espionage and more. Henry recalled that Zeyn had given him a business card when they met at Gustos tower. With that thought, he began searching for the business card, rummaging through rooms, shuffling papers and books on the table. And there, in one of the drawers, he found it.

A second later, Henry held Zeyn's business card in his hands. He read "Zeyn - Cyber Security Engineer." This gave him hope.

Henry took his mobile phone and dialed the number printed on Zeyn's business card. On the other end of the line, the beeps sounded endless to him, as if minutes stretched into hours. "Well then, Zeyn, answer," Henry silently pleaded, but the phone remained unanswered.

"Enough," Henry said, as if dispelling the ghost of doubts. With a mysterious confidence, he commanded Snowpiper: "Pause." Then he pocketed the smartphone and headed to the nearest public transport stop.

He boarded bus number seven — the very one that ran between his childhood homes and where Zeyn lived. Finding a seat by the window, he settled in. As the cityscape rolled by him like frames of an old film, Henry was enveloped by a wave of nostalgia. Memories raced through his mind, and he felt he was about to cross the threshold of the past.

The bus stopped, and Henry stepped out onto the leaf-strewn street, filled with autumn air. He headed towards Zeyn's old house, feeling his heart beat with every step. The house stood there, surrounded by a high fence and old trees. This house held their shared secrets from youth.

The slightly wrinkled and time-worn house looked at Henry with tired eyes, like an old friend. He sighed, raised his hand, and knocked. The door instantly swung open, and an elderly woman with grey hair, wrapped in a scarf, greeted him.

"My God, Henry!" her eyes lit up with recognition.

"Yes, Aunt Martha, it's me. I'm looking for Zeyn. Where is he?" Henry smiled sheepishly.

The woman grimaced as if in pain. "Zeyn has moved. But I can give you his new address."

Suddenly, Aunt Martha turned around and shouted, "Emeli, look who's come to visit us!" Emeli, Zeyn's sister, quickly came out of the room. Seeing Henry, her face immediately brightened. "Henry, it's been so long!"

They exchanged glances, and there was something more than mere childhood memories in that look. They spoke briefly, but Henry understood that something had changed. With mixed feelings, he took the new address and headed for Zeyn's place.

Arriving at the address, ascending the staircase of the apartment building, he felt the bright sun penetrate through the windows, illuminating the corridor with uneven rays. The shadow of his figure disappeared and reappeared, flickering between floors.

When Henry was just a couple of steps from Zeyn's door, he felt a sharp tension in the air. Several grim figures emerged from the apartment. Their eyes slid along the walls, looking tense and dangerous. Henry caught a glimpse of the weapons they tried to conceal. The words thrown by one of them back into the apartment sounded like a doomed warning, after which they disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.

After a minute of silence, Henry finally decided to enter. Zeyn's apartment was in chaos: papers, clothes, broken equipment everywhere. A scent of defeat lingered in the air. It seemed a real battle had taken place. Henry carefully stepped through the rooms, listening to every sound.

Suddenly, weak moans drew his attention. Lighting the door with a flashlight, Henry opened it. There on the floor, surrounded by wreckage, lay Zeyn. Henry saw bruises on his face. In Zeyn's hand was a mop, trembling like an ancient weapon ready for battle. Henry realized that Zeyn mistook him for one of the assailants and hastily tried to reassure his friend.

"It's me, Henry... they're gone," whispered Zeyn, his voice was heavy and hoarse, echoing as if from some other reality.

"Zeyn, what are you doing here?" Henry's question sounded almost accusatory, he tried to piece together all the details of this incredible scene.

"What happened?" Henry whispered with the same intensity.

"No time to talk," Zeyn said in a faltering voice. "We need to leave. The police will be here soon. I think the neighbors have already taken care of that."

Without a word, Henry grabbed Zeyn by the arm, helping him up. They moved towards the exit, every step filled with the sharpness of the moment and an unspoken anxiety. The time to act was now, and every second was golden.

They got out of the apartment, and as they went down one floor, they heard the loud conversations on the walkie-talkies of the approaching police. A spark of determination appeared in Zeyn's eyes: "Upstairs, to the roof! There's a fire escape there!"

Like two shadowy silhouettes, they quickly made their way to the window and began descending the ladder. The sounds of the police conversation grew louder, and one of them suddenly shouted, pointing at the slowly descending figures.

Relying on Henry, Zeyn took step by step, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. The police were very close now.

Finally, Henry and Zeyn reached Zeyn's car. Starting the engine, Henry looked at his friend: "Hold on, everything will be okay." The car pulled out onto the street, overtaking several cars, and soon their pursuers were left behind.

After a long journey to his home, and a tense evening, Henry parked the car at his house. With a heavy sigh, Henry carefully helped Zeyn out of the car and through the dark corridor to the sofa. In the room, filled with silence, only Zeyn's quiet moans were heard as Henry began treating his wounds.

"It's all behind us," Henry whispered, catching the gaze of his exhausted friend. He felt the moment of fatigue being replaced by something else – an unclear premonition.

"What happened, Zeyn? Who were those people?" The words flew out of his mouth as if they had been waiting for this moment.

Zeyn stared at the ceiling, his eyes vacant as if he were traveling through time. "I really don't want to drag you into this. Let's just say, they were people of the Baron."

Shock flickered across Henry's face. "Not the Baron I'm thinking of?"

Zeyn nodded, his gaze heavy. "Yes, that very one."

"You always loved high stakes," said Henry. It was too risky even for you, and he tried to wrap his head around the new information. "Why did you get involved with such people? Especially with the Baron, of all possible criminal figures, you found the most dangerous one?"

In the room where a sense of impending danger had recently lingered, Zeyn sighed again. A mix of fatigue and despair appeared in his eyes. "Money, Henry. They had already paid me. But the equipment... I was supposed to 'acquire' it. You know what I mean?"

Henry felt the tension growing. He raised an eyebrow, eager for details. "Tell it to me straight, Zeyn."

"Alright," Zeyn paused as if choosing the right words, I'll keep it short. "I hacked into a correspondence between a hacker and his client. The plan was simple: an exchange of money for a device at the train station. They were supposed to put the money and the device in storage lockers—opposite one another, then share the locker codes and retrieve their respective items. I went instead of the client to the meeting.

Henry watched Zeyn, noticing how his friend's eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to focus on every word, every moment of his story. "Everything looked flawless, at least in my plan," Zeyn began. "I had everything planned out to the smallest detail. I made a cut in the wall of their locker where the equipment was to be, so when I would collect it I could also hook my money."

He paused, and something grim entered his voice. "But when I opened the lockers after the exchange... they were empty. Absolutely empty. No money, no equipment, not a trace of them. It seems I was outsmarted, and I suspect it was done deliberately. They knew I was eavesdropping and would try to hack them."

"I have a device that can erase or hide memories. I used it to conceal what I had done. But it seems Baron's people still found a way to extract that information from my head." And they realized I used their money to steal the equipment.

As Henry tried to piece together all parts of this story in his head, Zeyn continued:

"Henry, you understand, my sister needed surgery," Zeyn continued, his eyes filled with something akin to despair. "That money was her only chance."

Henry thought back to his morning encounter with Zeyn's sister. She seemed perfectly healthy, with no signs of illness. He could have mentioned it, but chose not to focus on her condition. Zeyn was in a bad enough state as it was.

"I understand, Zeyn," said Henry, deliberately avoiding delving into this sensitive area. "The question now is not what's past. We need to think about how to fix the situation." Henry nodded in understanding. After a pause, Zeyn asked thoughtfully, "But why did you come? What were you looking for?"

Henry smiled, but his eyes betrayed his worry. Filled with concern, he took a deep breath before replying. "Early this morning my Snowpiper threw me into a cold shower and told me, 'An anomaly has been detected in your system, a hack is possible!' - said Henry.

"Snowpiper? Is that some kind of supercomputer for memory storage and sleep control?" Zeyn managed to hide his surprise, but something like a concerned interest flickered in his eyes.

"Yes, exactly. It informed me that my memories had been hacked." Henry felt a sense of looming threat growing inside him.

Zeyn felt the tension in the air. "Were there any strange encounters yesterday? Meetings with strangers?"

Zeyn looked at Henry attentively, noticing a flicker of fear in his eyes. "This is only possible for genetically similar individuals. And of course, theoretically, you can be hacked remotely. But for that, you would need a transmitter no more than a meter away from you," he noted, his voice carrying a cautious certainty.

Henry shook his head. "I don't have anything like that. Wait, I'll check my pockets, maybe there's something..." His words stuck in his throat as he felt the pockets of his jacket.

Pulling a strange metal object from his pocket, a ringing sound appeared in his ears. It was something like a microchip, inlaid in plastic. "Zeyn, look. Is this a transmitter?"

Zeyn took the metal object and quickly examined it. "This is the very transmitter I was talking about. Are you sure you haven't seen anyone who could have planted this? Although, of course, if someone wanted to cover their tracks, they would erase this information from your memories."

Henry felt his heart start to pound wildly. "But that means..."

"Yes," Zeyn interrupted him, his eyes hardening like steel. "It means someone didn't just hack your memories. Someone wants you to forget that it was them. And that they might continue to do so."

"I only met a homeless man at the bus stop, but..." Henry began to feel as though he was caught in a web of intrigue with no way out.

"In these times, Henry, even our memories can become someone else's property," said Zeyn, nodding perceptively as if savoring the essence of Henry's words. "Has anything else unusual happened in these 'glittering times'?"

"Yes, it has," Henry nodded slowly, giving weight to the moment. "You remember my childhood friend Tom? He decided to use our memory capsule at our agency? When I was on duty, I discovered something shocking. Suddenly, my grandfather's briefcase appeared in his memories."

Zeyn leaned in, as if trying to fish out more details from every word. "Your grandfather's briefcase? Really? His stories were always shrouded in shadows of mysticism, yes, I remember!

"Absolutely," confirmed Henry. "This briefcase, as my grandfather claimed, contains something incredibly valuable. What exactly—he never said. But now something has appeared in another person's memories. I don't know how to explain it, but it happened. Maybe it's some kind of sign for me..."

Zeyn pressed his lips into a thin line, as if trying to grasp the essence of the situation in one instantaneous glance. "If there's truly something valuable in that briefcase, your friend might be in danger, Henry. And it's quite possible that it's not only you who have noticed. Who was around at that moment?"

"Fisher was there," replied Henry, his voice slightly quivered, underscoring the gravity of the situation.

Zeyn pondered, his eyes becoming even more piercing as if he was reading between the lines of reality. "Well, if Fisher was there, we need to be especially careful. That guy is always involved in something."

With those words, Zeyn stood up, determination etched on his face. "Let's try to unravel this mystery, Henry. Whatever is in that briefcase and wherever it leads, we must get to the truth...

Henry shuddered and swallowed, as if trying to quell his inner anxieties. "Tom is probably now in Gustos' lab. And as I understand it, Fisher might be able to help us get there."

Zeyn nodded, a mysterious sparkle in his eyes. The thought of possibly profiting from this whole adventure flickered through his mind, but he decided not to share it with Henry. "Let's work together," he said, as if accepting an unspoken challenge.

Henry added, "But we still have a problem."

"What's that?" Zeyn felt everything inside him freeze—the anticipation was almost unbearable.

"These labs... they're shrouded in mystique. Rumors say that the spirits of memories wander there," Henry said, as if reading from an invisible parchment.

Zeyn snorted. "What spirits... All that stuff is nothing more than urban legends."

Henry nodded seriously and resolutely. "If it can help my father, I'm willing to take the risk."

"How do we get in?" Zeyn frowned, waiting for an answer.

"Once a month they conduct a power shutdown, the next one is in a few days. Practically all cameras go off, only the exterior ones work," Henry explained. "That's our chance."

Zeyn couldn't help but smile. "Sounds like an excellent plan. And it's our opportunity to get inside while their systems are down."

Henry leaned against the wall and added in a whisper, "Just remember, it's not only the cameras that are off. Who knows what other secrets these walls hide?"

Zeyn felt a shiver run down his spine. "I think we should talk to Fisher. He will definitely help us."

Zeyn nodded, his gaze becoming even more penetrating as if he was already envisioning all the potential dangers and revelations awaiting them. "Good, we'll have time to prepare. We must use these days as effectively as possible."

"Right," agreed Henry, approaching the sofa in the corner of the room and lightly touching its armrest. "Rest today.

Zeyn lay down on the sofa, readying himself for a short but sound sleep. "Yes, these days promise to be interesting," he whispered, slowly closing his eyes, immersing himself in the anticipation of the unknown.

They exchanged glances that conveyed not only determination but also a premonition of adventures wrapped in a veil of mystique. "In a few days, Zeyn, in a few days we'll find out what's in that lab. Why it's so valuable," Henry said, looking straight into his eyes.

The atmosphere in the room became even more tense, as if the air itself was holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come. Henry turned off the lamp, and darkness enveloped them, leaving only their thoughts and dreams of the upcoming adventures.

6.Spirits of memories

In the descending elevator, three people, shrouded in a thick curtain of silence as if meditating, moved downward. The mechanical symphony of the creaking elevator, like a dramatic accompaniment, only emphasized this atmosphere.

"As we descend to the laboratory," Fisher thought, "each of us is immersed in our own thoughts."

Unspoken, but understood by all, their minds converged on the same idea — a mystery waiting to be unraveled, about the spirits of memories rumored to roam the dark corners of the laboratory. Doubt remained — a whisper of skepticism, but the tales had entwined their consciousness, refusing to be dismissed.

The elevator stopped, and its doors flung open with a slight creak, as if becoming actors in a play, revealing deep darkness before them. A mix of trepidation and intrigue enveloped them, their eyes involuntarily fixed on the far door, which was almost sanctified by the raspberry light on the digital lock. A beam of light penetrating from the elevator created an illusion of invitation, mysterious and silent, luring them into unexplored depths.

"Well, shall we go?" Fisher said. Sparks of determination lit up in each of their eyes. At that moment, as if on an invisible signal, they moved forward. The sound of the elevator doors closing behind them was like fate itself pushing them, closing the path back.

A unanimous impulse, a mix of anxiety and excitement, pushed them out of the elevator, and they stepped into the corridor, moving towards the raspberry light, beckoning with secrets and mysteries.

"The elevator doors — with a dull thud — closed, cutting off the last ray of light and completely plunging them into the shaded corridor. Zain turned to Henry, his eyes sparkling in the semi-darkness: "You brought the flashlight, right?"

"Henry rummaged through the items in his backpack, each movement resonating in the tense atmosphere. 'I'm sure I put it here... Wait, just a second...'

Fisher froze, his face drawn into a line of tension. 'Is that... someone coming towards us, do you hear?'

'Call the elevator back! Quickly!' Fisher's voice rose, filled with anxiety.

Zain reacted instantly, frantically pressing the elevator call button. Each press felt like a hammer blow, nailing down their chances of escape. 'We need light, Henry! Now!'

'Henry, where's the flashlight?' Fisher said in panic.

'Just a minute! Here, found it,' Henry responded, his voice trembling.

The flashlight's beam illuminated the corridor, and Zain finally whispered, 'Thank God...'

But their relief was short-lived. 'What's that there?' Fisher whispered, staring into the dark end of the corridor.

The dazzling beam of light snatched an unknown figure from the shadows. 'Who is that person?!' Henry exclaimed, eyes wide.

The man, walking slowly and indifferently past them, muttered something, paying them no mind. It was as if he was somewhere in a dream."

"What is that device on his head?" Zain asked in a low voice.

"I don't know... But, maybe we better keep moving," Fisher replied, still filled with fear and watching the retreating figure.

"Yes, let's get out of here. Now!" Henry said, quickly recovering himself.

"Why is it so quiet? This place seems even stranger than I expected," Henry whispered, walking ahead.

"Yes, and every time, it feels like someone is about to jump out from around a corner..." Fisher followed, responding.

"And how many doors are here? And who are those people who sometimes slip past?" Zain added, looking back at the branching corridors.

"Do you hear that? Those voices... What is it?" Henry said, straining his ears towards distant sounds.

Reaching the door at the end of the corridor with a raspberry light bulb, Fisher quickly applied his card to the sensor. There was a click, and the green indicator lit up.

"Wait! Motion sensors!" Zain whispered sharply, noticing something on the floor.

"But I opened the door with my card! Why are there so many sensors here?" Fisher said with disappointment.

"We can't go through. It's too risky," Henry said, pointing at the laser beams.

They sat down next to the door, and Fisher sighed, "Maybe we should come back another time?"

"The next time won't be for at least a month. We need to come up with something right now!" Henry said decisively.

"Do you hear that? Those are footsteps again!" Henry strained in the darkness.

"It's him... the same man," Fisher whispered in response.

As the man approached, Henry illuminated him with the flashlight. The man silently raised his head and stared upward.

"What is he looking at?" Zain asked, puzzled.

"The ventilation. I remember! He told me 'look for the answer above.' But how could he know, and who is this guy giving us hints?" Henry said, breathing deeply in confusion.

"We can get up there. But we need a ladder," Fisher said, looking at the ventilation grille.

Suddenly, the man, without saying a word, pointed towards a door and moved in its direction, clearly implying that they should follow him.

"Do you think we should follow him?" Zain whispered.

"Yes, let's go," Henry nodded in response.

The man led them through numerous corridors, in which wandered other figures, seeming like 'spirits'. At times they approached these figures, and the man seemed to communicate with them.

"Where is he leading us?" Fisher whispered.

Stopping at one of the doors, the man stood motionless.

"Look, there's ventilation above the door! If we move this table, we can climb up," Zain said, pointing to the room.

"Thank you, stranger. You've been a great help," Henry said with relief.

They quickly moved the table to the door and one by one began to climb into the ventilation duct.

"Where are we crawling? There are so many forks," Henry whispered, barely breathing in the narrow ventilation passages.

"I don't know. But Tom is somewhere here, and we need to find him," Zain whispered back.

"We've been wandering these passages for an hour. How much longer?" Fisher said, a bit behind, his voice heavy.

As they approached another exit from the ventilation, Henry slowed down: "Wait... I see lasers. This might be the place."

"Let me have a look," Zain said, cautiously approaching Henry. They carefully switched places, and Zain examined the alarm system. "I have a plan."

"What are you planning to do?" Henry asked in a low voice.

"Give me five minutes," Zain said, taking out his tools. After a short pause and setting up the mirror equipment, he announced, "Done!"

"Finally," Fisher sighed with relief.

"Look. So many Somndreams... I can't imagine why they're here," Zain said, pointing to the room below.

"All we know is that people wait for months to get here and sign some contract. But why?" Henry said, his voice tinged with gloom.

"I suggest we go down and jump from table to table to where Tom is. They're close enough to each other," Zain suggested, pointing to the tables below.

"Alright, let's do it," Henry agreed, albeit with a hint of doubt.

After the rope was secured, Fisher whispered, "Wait... There's a face at the entrance door window! No, it's just that spirit that led us here."

"It seems like he's smiling. Probably, we should continue," Zain looked on.

As they were hopping from table to table, Henry, looking around in the dim light, said, "There are so many tables here... And Somndreams."

"I'll keep watch. Find Tom," Zain responded vigilantly.

A few minutes later, Fisher excitedly said, "Henry, I think that's him! Over here!"

"Yes, that's Tom!" Henry quickly hopped towards Fisher.

"Let's see what memories he's viewing right now," Fisher said with interest.

"Just be careful. If we interfere, the alarm might go off," Zain warned with noticeable concern.

"He's going to school... Now at the university... At a party..." Henry said, attentively following Tom's Somndream.

"We can't do anything. Just sit and wait for the right memory..." Fisher sighed.

After some time of waiting…

"What? Who called me?" Henry asked in a sleepy voice.

"It's Tom... on the screen! Your name!" Fisher said quietly.

"He's talking to that girl... And see that man with the briefcase... The car number... Oh my God!" Henry suddenly became alert and started adjusting his phone, turning on the camera.

"What happened?" Fisher asked, alert.

"Last time I watched this memory, the girl chose me. But now she's saying she likes Tom," Henry said with hints of disbelief.

"What? That's strange..." Fisher said, concerned.

"Never mind. We've got what we need. Time to leave," Henry responded decisively.

"There's the ventilation! Let's go!" Zain said, pointing to the exit.

"Wait! There's someone in the corridor!" Fisher whispered in warning.

"Light... It's the staff. They've come, seems like they're bringing in patients," Zain said tensely.

"Fisher, we need to move faster! We have very little time!" Henry said as he climbed up.

"I know, I'm trying! Just don't lose me!" Fisher replied, climbing beside him.

"Not all at once! This rope is old, it might not hold your weight!" Zain warned sternly from below.

"We can't waste time! It's getting noisy in the corridors," Henry said, looking down.

"Alright... but be careful," Zain sighed.

"Henry, hold me!" Fisher yelled as the rope broke.

"Hold on! Zain! NO!" Henry yelled, holding onto Fisher.

"I'm falling…Aaaaah!" Zain screamed as he fell from beneath them.

"I... I'm okay. Just hit hard. But you have to leave," Zain groaned.

"What do we do now?" Fisher panicked as an alarm siren sounded.

"We need to find another way out. And Zain... we'll have to leave him behind for a while," Henry responded anxiously.

Henry and Fisher, like shadows, crossed the room lit only by the flickering indicators on the control panels. In this chaotic light, their faces appeared as canvases mixed with fatigue and determination.

Passing through staircases, they spotted a figure ahead. Fisher immediately recognized Zain.

"Zain!" Fisher shouted piercingly, and each word sounded like an urgent cry. "Come to us! Quickly, they're looking for you!"

"Did someone see you?" Henry asked, his heart pounding with tension, peering at Zain.

"I think so," Zain replied, looking around as if checking every shadow. The security was already behind them, and their footsteps were growing louder. They cornered Zain and his friends, leaving no way out. Feeling the imminence of capture, Zain muttered, "There's only one way out..."

The guards, bursting into the space, paused for a moment, surprised to see Fisher and Henry holding Zain. "Fisher? Is that you?" one of them asked, almost in shock.

"That's right. And my friend, Henry. And this one... he was trying to leave. We've handcuffed him," Fisher responded confidently.

The guard nodded, pointing to the door. "Then take him to the boss. Immediately."

Thus, Fisher and Henry, holding Zain between them, headed to the security chief's office.

In the elevator, time seemed to stand still. Fisher and Henry stood next to Zain, like walls protecting him from danger. "Zain, everything will be alright," Fisher asserted, "we'll get you out of here."

Zain smiled and said, "Don't worry about me. I've been in situations like this before." As the elevator reached its destination and the doors opened before them, they were met by Jane. Seeing Zain in handcuffs, her heart skipped a beat. "Where are you taking him, Henry, Fisher?" she asked. They slowed their pace but quickly realized there was no time for explanations. "Zain's in trouble, we'll explain later. We need to keep moving," they replied briefly and headed to the security chief's office. Jane stood stunned, watching as Zain was led towards the office.

Soon, a man who seemed to have endured many trials entered the room: a somewhat bald head, a deep scar tracing a path on his face, and a concealed limp. "I'm Nick," came the voice from the doorway, "the head of security for this establishment."

He politely offered Zain a seat, but behind this courtesy, there was a clear sense of tension. Zain took the seat, bracing himself for the interrogation.

Sitting upright, Zain tried to appear confident. Nick scrutinized him, as if trying to penetrate the depths of his soul.

"What's your name?" Nick began.

"Zain. I already said that."

Nick rested his hands on the table, his fingers dancing across the polished wooden surface, as if trying to decipher a code. "I'm curious, Zain," he started, his eyes filled with an inexplicable mix of interest and doubt, "how did you manage to get into the lower floors? There's the strictest secrecy there."

Zain slightly smiled, his eyes mysteriously twinkling. "I can do more than that," he answered evasively, as if his words concealed much more than he was willing to admit. Nick tilted his head, his smirk widening. "What were you looking for there?"

"It doesn't matter," Zain paused, his gaze becoming serious, "I was there because of the legends about spirits, which, as rumors say, dwell on those floors."

A look of complete bewilderment mixed with mockery appeared on Nick's face. "Legends? You risked everything to check urban myths? Please, Zain, don't take me for a fool."

Zain pondered for a moment. "I was curious. It's not every day you hear about a place supposedly involved in paranormal research."

"And you decided to take a risk and break into a highly secured building? All because of curiosity?" Nick shook his head in disbelief. He leaned closer to Zain. "I need the truth, Zain. Who sent you? Who is your accomplice? Who hired you?"

"There's no one. I acted alone," Zain replied unblinkingly.

Nick sighed, standing up. "I hope, for your sake, that's true, Zain."

Zain smiled. "Only time will tell."

Nick let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair. His eyes sparkled with a cold glint. "Zain, don't make this harder than it has to be. If you tell me everything, I might be able to help you."

"I've already told you everything I know," Zain looked him straight in the eye, showing no fear.

"We have methods to extract the truth from people like you. Here in the laboratory, we know how to do things... unusual things. Things that will make you beg to be let go," Nick smirked, but the smile was artificial.

Zain took a deep breath, "You can't scare me."

Nick moved closer to him, so close that Zain could feel his breath. "I've warned you, Zain. Tell everything you know, or I'll personally make sure you regret it."

Minutes stretched agonizingly long. An oppressive silence reigned in the room, broken only by the heavy breathing of both men.

Eventually, Nick stepped back from him, decisively saying, "Fine, I'm tired of this game. The police will deal with you." He stood up and left, leaving Zain alone.

Two hours seemed like an eternity. The door burst open, and two policemen in uniform entered. Zain's heart raced as he realized: these were the same policemen who had chased him near his home.

"So where have we met before, boy?" one of them smirked.

"Nowhere," Zain replied, trying to appear calm.

Swiftly handcuffing him, the policemen led him through the building, then loaded him into a police car and drove to the station.

Upon arrival, Zain was led through long corridors to a small room with unfinished wall painting. "Sit here and wait," commanded one of the policemen, locking the door.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a man entered the room, his unpleasant smile betraying his confidence. It was Petros, an inspector with a bad reputation and an even worse mood. He was the son of the district governor, and his power was limitless.

"Zain, what brings you here?" Petros began with a mocking tone. Throwing questions, he threatened Zain with a long imprisonment. Despite Zain's assurances that he was just investigating spirits, Petros was unyielding.

"If you don't have a good lawyer, prepare to spend a long time in jail," he added with a smirk, leaving the room.

Zain was in despair but remembered his lawyer – a person who had bailed him out of tough situations before. He requested a phone call and, hoping for a miracle, asked him to get him out of there.

The next day…

At dawn, as the first rays of the sun reflected off the glass facades of the city's skyscrapers, Henry approached the agency building. His gaze fell on the flashing lights of police cars in the morning light. A feeling of anxiety made his heart beat faster.

Passing through the majestic hall, his gaze met the piercing eyes of the policemen. In the crowd, Henry recognized Fisher, who, seeming to understand all of Henry's anxiety, waved his hand, warning him not to linger.

Behind Henry, voices, footsteps, and the restless buzzing of voices in the corridors were heard. As the elevator doors slid closed, Henry seemed to dive into his inner world. Inside the elevator, his colleagues began a conversation:

"Did you hear about that incident? They found a dead man in the laboratory," said the first colleague.

"No, who was it?" asked the second colleague.

"It seems he was an engineer from some major telecommunications company. A very smart guy. They say he was somehow connected to that guy they arrested yesterday," the first continued.

Henry felt panic enveloping him, realizing that they might be talking about his old friend.

Exiting the elevator, he nearly collided with his secretary, whose eyes were searching for answers. But Henry, like a ghost, passed by her, avoiding any questions. In the duty room, surrounded by the silence and darkness of his thoughts, he stared into the void. His mind wove images of fear, where each picture was worse than the last, like an endless mirror of nightmares.

Fisher slowly opened the door and waved his hand upwards, his eyes full of worry. "Everything's being listened to, Henry," he whispered. "We need to get out of here."

In the room's walls, a tense silence seemed to linger. Henry stood up, his heart pounding in his chest. "Fisher, what... what happened?" he asked.

Fisher took Henry's hand, leading him to the restroom. "It's safer here," he whispered, closing the door. He hung a "Cleaning in progress" sign and something dark flickered in his eyes.

Henry stood, as if paralyzed, in the agency's hall. Fisher, whose expressive facial features now seemed especially somber, took a deep breath, as if bracing for something significant.

"Your childhood friend Tom... he's dead, Henry," Fisher said with difficulty.

The words reverberated in Henry's head like a sentence. "It can't be... How did it happen?" he asked.

Fisher met his gaze. "It's still unclear. Brain hemorrhage, or something like that. There are suspicions that someone tried to extract some crucial memory fragments from him."

"This is all very strange," Henry said thoughtfully. "What now?"

"Gustos has already made a decision. Tom's body will stay here for a few days. We have some of the most advanced brain research equipment, after all. Dr. William will handle this," Fisher said, as if regretting every word spoken.

"Dr. William?" Henry felt a heavy, cold lump forming in his stomach. "Who is that?"

"He's the head of the Experimental-Analytical Department. A slippery character, to be honest. I don't trust him. But Gustos decided to entrust this matter to him," Fisher replied, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't remember meeting him," Henry said, feeling anxiety spreading through his body.

"You would remember him, believe me," Fisher replied. "He's over sixty, grey-haired, but that's not what makes him stand out. His eyes... it's like he's looking right into your soul. And that smirk, as if he always knows something you don’t. He's the kind of guy who always seems to want to 'sell' you something."

Henry saw Fisher nervously adjust his cap. This small gesture showed that Fisher was not himself, although he was usually confident and calm. "And what about Zain? He's involved in this, even though he ran away with us, he couldn't have done anything?" Henry's voice sounded as if he was afraid to hear the answer.

Fisher sighed deeply and heavily. He looked at Henry, and a shadow flickered in his eyes. "The agency thinks otherwise," he began, as if choosing each word carefully. "Zain has a bad reputation. He's already among the suspects. And though I wouldn't want it, it makes him one of the key figures in this mystery."

Instant pain reflected on Henry's face. Everything inside him screamed in protest. Zain couldn't be guilty; he was sure of that. But doubts, like dark clouds, were already beginning to overshadow his confidence.

Henry lost himself in thought. Zain and Tom, two old friends, now found themselves at the center of some grim drama of life and death. But he couldn't link Zain to this terrible event.

"Listen, Fisher," Henry began, his eyes becoming serious as if he had read some frightening truth in the depths of his soul. "We need to do something. Zain is innocent."

Fisher raised an eyebrow, his look skeptical. "You know, Henry, Zain's reputation is far from perfect. Who knows what he could have done. After all, he stayed there when we escaped through the ventilation, right?"

A fog of doubts and uncertainties enveloped Henry's mind. His thoughts began to melt like chocolate under the sun. "No, I don't believe it," he whispered to himself. "It's impossible. Zain saved us; he sacrificed himself. I can't just leave him. It would haunt me for the rest of my life."

"I'll do everything I can to help him," Henry said, as if accepting an invisible challenge from fate.

Fisher nodded, his gaze affirming. "Listen, Zain worked for 'Stealth-Industrial'. That complicates the whole case, but we'll definitely find who's responsible."

"Stealth-Industrial?" Henry frowned. "What is that company?"

"They're in telecommunications," Fisher explained. "Developing communication tools for the military and government agencies. I don't understand what Zain is doing here. After all, this isn't a laboratory."

Now Henry knew the situation was even more complex than it seemed. But one thing remained unchanged: his determination to help an old friend, against all odds.

Henry felt an inexplicable connection with Fisher at that moment. He placed his hand on the shoulder of his old friend. "We will definitely save him, Fisher. Whatever it takes."

***

At that moment, in the police station, the atmosphere in Zain's cell became tense. A guard entered, his boots loudly clacking on the floor. "Zain, your lawyer is here," he said, paving the way for a man in a suit.

Zain sighed, feeling mixed emotions. He rose from his bunk, waiting for his lawyer.

The lawyer entered, cast a quick glance around the cell, and addressed Zain: "I've arranged for you to be released on bail. Do you have the means or relatives who can provide it?"

Instantly, the face of his mother came to Zain's mind. "Mom," he whispered.

The lawyer smiled and handed him a phone. "Then call her. Now's the time."

Zain took the phone, his fingers swiftly dialing the necessary number. In that moment, life around him seemed to freeze, and all he wanted was to hear his mother's voice and return to a simpler, more understandable time.

The courtroom was filled with anticipation. Heavy red curtains and a high ceiling gave the room a special atmosphere. One by one, spectators entered, whispering, discussing the latest news and rumors about Zain and his past.

When the judge entered the room, silence fell. "All rise! The court is in session!" he declared and looked at Zain. With pleasure, settling into his throne-like chair as if a king before a coronation, the judge turned

his attention to the defendant. "Defendant Zain, you are accused of breaking into Mr. Gustos's building. What do you have to say about this?"

Zain nodded, feeling the air in the room become even more tense. "Your Honor, I understand how unusual my story might seem. But I sincerely believed that the urban legends had some basis. And I couldn't resist the urge to check it."

The judge sat in his high chair, his gaze steel and impenetrable. He looked intently at Zain, then at the room, where laughter erupted. "This hall is not a place for entertainment," he said sternly, "I will not tolerate any disturbance of order. Continue, Zain."

The judge tilted his head, as if weighing Zain's words. "Your intentions might be pure, but the law considers breaking and entering private property without permission a crime. Do you understand this?" he asked.

Zain pursed his lips into a thin line. "I understand, Your Honor. But I believed I was on the verge of a discovery that could change our understanding of this place, and perhaps the whole world," he replied. Laughter erupted in the room again…

The judge stared at Zain, his eyes resembling two cold lakes. "Your beliefs cannot serve as a justification for breaking the law. However," he paused, "I will consider them when pronouncing the sentence."

The defendant’s lawyer — a man with a confident look — interjected: "Your Honor, my client may have a criminal past, but in this case, his motives were driven by curiosity, not criminal intent."

The judge slowly raised an eyebrow: "Are you suggesting that a man with a criminal past decides to investigate paranormal phenomena?"

Feeling bewildered at that moment, Zain replied: "Yes, Your Honor. I've been interested in this for a long time. Spirits, ghosts... it's my hobby."

Trying to conceal a smile, the judge said: "A rather unusual hobby for a man with your background. However, given the lack of evidence of theft or other criminal activity, I am inclined to release you on bail. But in the future — better investigate ghosts in places where you're invited."

The judge dignifiedly reviewed the documents, preparing to announce the decision. His gavel was already raised, ready to confirm the decision in Zain's case. But, like in a movie, the doors of the hall burst open.

A detective with a malicious look, accompanied by two policemen, barged into the hall. "Judge! Don't hit that gavel yet!" he growled.

Stopping in front of Zain, he smirked: "Now you're ours. Murder, Zain. And yes, you have the right to remain silent. But I think now it's too late to do that."

Despite being handcuffed and the heavy atmosphere of the interrogation room, Zain tried to grasp what was happening. With each passing minute, his hope for a quick release was fading.

When the inspector entered the room, with every word he said, things got worse for Zain. "Do you know Tom Smith? He's dead. And all the evidence points to you."

Zain felt as if a noose was tightening around his neck. "It's a setup!" his soul screamed, but the words sounded weak and unconvincing.

Returning to his cell, Zain sat, pressed against the wall, trying to understand how he got into this nightmare. Who could have betrayed him so mercilessly?

7. Awarding

Behind the scenes of the event, where each lamp and every fold of the curtain held secrets of past celebrations, William addressed Gustos. In his eyes danced sparks of cunning, and a deliberate smirk lurked at the corners of his lips.

"Why not allow me to grace the stage with my presence this time? Top hats, gifts, applause — I see it as something... promising," he said.

Gustos, sensing a challenge, confidently replied:

"William, not all characters are meant to be in the spotlight. Some are destined to remain in the shadows, at least for now."

"Shadows," William drawled, "an interesting place. Sometimes the most unexpected things emerge from the shadows. Like scandals or mishaps, when key figures... are late?"

Gustos felt a chill.

"Come by after the ceremony, we'll talk."

"Oh, certainly, we'll talk," William's smirk widened, "but remember, Gustos, sometimes shadows are denser and more mysterious than they seem. And one can always step out of them, especially if you have the key."

William, feeling victory slipping from his grasp, nodded with a feigned smile:

"See you after the ceremony, Gustos. And remember, the stage is not the only place where one can shine."

"I must be going now," said Gustos, feeling William's gaze on his back as he headed for the stage exit.

He ascended to the platform under the dazzling spotlight. Gustos felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, his confidence as solid as steel. The hall was packed with employees, their faces filled with anticipation.

"Dear colleagues! Today I see before me a group of people united by a common goal and an unwavering determination to overcome difficulties," he began, his gaze shining with genuine pride. "This year has been relentless, presenting us with numerous obstacles, but look around — we are all here, uplifted and unyielding."

The hall erupted into warm applause.

"So, let's celebrate our best — those who have set a shining example for all of us, who have shown that the word 'impossible' simply does not exist in our vocabulary," Gustos declared, his voice rolling through the hall like a wave, drowning out all other sounds. "And to help us with this, let's invite the esteemed Dr. Dzi. Please, doctor, come to the microphone!"

The spotlights stopped on the empty stage, as if searching for a lost star, and the room held its breath. Everyone waited, but the stage remained empty.

"Um... Dr. Dzi?" Gustos desperately tried to hide his confusion, coughing into the microphone. "Are you here?"

From the back row, Jane stood up, her gaze meeting Gustos's as if conveying an invisible signal.

"I'll check what happened, after the event. Don't worry," she said.

In that moment, William gave Gustos a nod, his eyes twinkling ironically. A reminder? Or perhaps a hint at something more?

"Thank you, Jane," Gustos said, adjusting his top hat with the grace of a magician about to perform a trick. "Then let's not waste time. Let's move on to the company's income report. While our esteemed doctor is out of reach, let's give him some time..."

His words hung in the air, and the hall again filled with whispers. William smiled to himself; his plans were aligning perfectly with the unfolding events.

The room filled with the sound of applause and approving shouts. Graphs and charts flickered on the screen, and Gustos passionately spoke about the company's achievements, the incident with Dr. Dzi's absence receding into the background.

"Do you all see these numbers?" Gustos pointed to the chart behind him, where the lines joyously climbed upwards. "This is thanks to your hard work! Our revenue increased by twenty percent!" His voice was full of enthusiasm, as if he had just discovered a gold mine.

From the crowd, someone raised a hand, boldness in their voice mixed with genuine interest:

"That's fantastic! But who do you consider the key figure in this achievement?"

Gustos adjusted his top hat, pondering the wisdom of the question.

"Excellent question. Let's start with the Best Sales Manager Award. And the prize goes to... our new employee — Jessica!"

Among the sea of faces, Jessica stood up. Her face was filled with surprise and disbelief, as if she had just found a magic lamp.

"I... I don't even know what to say. Thank you!"

"The evening continued in an atmosphere of celebration, joy, and pride for the shared achievements. Under the arches of the spacious hall, tension swirled as if it was filled not only with people but also their dreams, ambitions, passions. Awards were presented one after another, and each announcement was met with applause and the sparkling eyes of the happy winners.

When the last laureate received their award, Gustos made a small but effective gesture with his hand. A grave silence fell over the hall, as if everyone suddenly realized that the moment they had long awaited had come and gone, leaving behind only the echo of its greatness.

"Dear colleagues!" he began with a special intonation. "Today we have a special award. I don't often bestow someone with the title of 'Gentleman', but today is that day."

All eyes were fixed on the stage. Some looked around in confusion, others waited with genuine interest for what was to come.

"Attention! Recently, an incident occurred in our company. And thanks to the decisiveness and courage of two of our employees, the criminal was caught," Gustos continued. The hall began to whisper in unison, trying to guess who he was talking about.

In the back rows, Henry and Fisher, slightly pale from excitement, exchanged a brief glance. They felt that this was their moment."

"I think many of you have already guessed who I am talking about," Gustos continued, adjusting his top hat. "Allow me to invite to this stage our heroes – Henry and Fisher!"

Amidst thunderous applause, both of them, slightly embarrassed but proud, approached the microphone. They were warmly welcomed by Gustos.

In the center of the stage, under the dazzling spotlight, stood Gustos. His eyes admiringly fixed on the two men standing beside him. The hall watched in awed silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Gustos began, adjusting his top hat. "Look at these two gentlemen."

Henry and Fisher, somewhat embarrassed by such attention, exchanged a brief but proud glance.

"These men have not just earned this title," Gustos continued, looking into their faces, "they acted decisively, without fear, thinking of the safety of others. Such bravery, such self-sacrifice can only be seen in true gentlemen."

Approving shouts and whispers of admiration filled the hall.

"In honor of your bravery," Gustos solemnly extended two majestic top hats, elegant white gloves, and strict black canes with golden tips. "I present you with these symbols of a true gentleman. Wear them with pride and conduct yourselves with dignity, for you are the true heroes of our time!"

Henry, taking the top hat in his hands, said with respect in his voice:

"Thank you, Gustos. We acted as we thought necessary. But such recognition... it's a great honor."

Fisher added, trying on the gloves:

"We're just glad that everything turned out well. And we'll wear these symbols of a gentleman with pride."

Applause and cheers of approval erupted in the hall. With pride and respect, Gustos shook the hands of his heroes. Then he slowly and solemnly removed his top hat, holding it in front of him. This gesture added a special grandeur to the moment, emphasizing its significance to everyone present.

In the silence after the event, the long corridors of the company seemed to breathe emptiness. Gustos, with his characteristic decisive stride, headed to Dr. Dzi's office, while Jane decided to check the laboratory.

The door creaked on its hinges as Gustos entered the office, stepping into another world. Dr. Dzi, whose figure usually exuded impenetrable confidence, seemed lost in melancholy, adrift in his canvas and Venetian strokes.

"Doctor, why weren't you at the event?" Gustos chose his words with particular caution, as if they were fragile vessels filled with emotions.

"Dr. Dzi sighed, not taking his eyes off his canvas. 'Ah, Gustos. What do you want?'

'I noticed that you've immersed yourself in painting again. What do you call this new work of yours?' asked Gustos.

'My wife left me for another man,' muttered the Doctor, his voice filled with palpable pain, as if the words were piercing him from within.

'What? What did you say?' Gustos was surprised.

'My wife left me for another,' repeated Dr. Dzi, and tears that had long been waiting for their moment finally broke free. 'I dedicated this year to saving the world, but I forgot to save my own family.'

A heavy shadow of despair hung in the office, as if all the walls had closed in, forming a cage locked by emotional suffering. Gustos struggled to find words:

'I'm sorry, Doctor. Indeed, sometimes we are so engrossed in great deeds that we lose sight of what truly matters.'

'You're sorry for no one, you're a heartless man! You have no one, you can't understand me!' the doctor exclaimed, pointing at Gustos with a trembling hand.

Gustos raised his hands in a calming gesture, his eyes trying to find firmness:

'Doctor, please, let's remain calm. There's no need to get so worked up,' he pleaded, but the Doctor continued to escalate."

Meanwhile, Jane approached the open door of the office. Holding her breath, she stood in the doorway, listening to the Doctor's exclamations.

"We were supposed to be doing scientific research! And now what? Industrial espionage?!" the doctor shouted, his voice trembling with anger. "And to frame a young man for such a terrible crime. This is too much."

"Quiet, Doctor, quiet..." Gustos tried to calm him. "Where are these fantasies about espionage coming from?"

"Fantasies?" The Doctor scoffed joylessly. "Do you really think I don't know about your recent schemes? About how you staged a fake murder and framed an innocent person? I can't be a part of this anymore!"

Determination blazed in the Doctor's eyes. "And another thing, that strange material, where did you get it? You didn't tell me anything! I refuse to continue working for you. I'm leaving!"

Gustos stood in astonishment, unable to formulate a response. And in the doorway, listening to all this, was Jane, who felt her heart freeze with the horrifying information the Doctor had just revealed.

A sudden noise in the corridor momentarily distracted Gustos from the heated argument with the doctor. Putting his unfinished thoughts aside, he said, "Wait a second, Doctor," and quickly headed to the office door.

Startled by the unexpected commotion, Jane's heart began to race faster. She realized — it was time to run. So, yielding to her instincts, Jane turned sharply and swiftly ran in the opposite direction, moving away from the office door.

"As soon as Gustos peeked into the corridor, he thought he saw a retreating shadow that disappeared around the nearest corner. His heart beat a little faster, realizing that their entire argument might have been overheard.

Returning to the office, Gustos stopped at the threshold. His gaze fell on Dr. Dzi, who seemed lost in thought.

'Doctor, you understand that I can't let you go,' Gustos began, keeping his voice calm but firm.

Dr. Dzi's gaze pierced Gustos.

'Are you threatening me?' A noticeable hint of anxiety colored his voice, and his hands trembled slightly. The light from the desk lamp cast a sinister reflection on his face.

'No, of course not, don't think that,' Gustos quickly countered, trying to maintain the tone of the conversation. 'After all, we've been through a lot together. Our friendship couldn't possibly end over such a misunderstanding.'

Dr. Dzi leaned back in his leather chair, as if settling into a throne.

'I know you, Gustos. Your words about friendship and honor don't impress me. If something happens to me, my dirt on you won't remain a secret.'

The weight of the moment hung in the air, like an invisible veil. Gustos nodded, concealing his tension.

'Alright, let's end this unnecessary dispute. I suggest you take a couple of weeks off, and when you return, we'll discuss all the nuances. Agreed?'"

Dr. Dzi raised one of his characteristic eyebrows.

"I will take the vacation. But don't expect me to change my mind."

"Agreed, Doctor," replied Gustos, feeling relieved. "Go straight to your idyllic cottage now to continue your creative work. I wish you a pleasant day, and until we meet again."

***

"Jane, not wasting a second, rushed through the corridors in search of Henry. Her heels clicked on the marble floor, merging with the rhythm of her inner chaos. Dr. Dzi's and Gustos's words swirled in her head, each thought flashing like a comet in the night sky, leaving behind trails of doubt and mistrust.

Her face was tense, her eyes full of questions bursting to come out. Today had clearly not brought her any clarity, rather the opposite. Yet her focus was so concentrated on her internal monologue that she didn't even notice passing colleagues raising their hands in greeting. She didn't see their smiles, didn't hear their 'hellos.'

Finally, she stopped in front of Henry's door. Her heart pounded as if she was standing on the threshold of some unknown world. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

The door slowly opened, and Henry, looking at Jane, immediately understood something had happened.

'Jane, you... you look shaken,' Henry said, piercing her with his gaze as she crossed the threshold of his office.

'We need to talk, Henry. Urgently,' Jane dispensed with all formalities, her voice sounding faintly anxious.

Guiding her to the sofa, Henry slowly closed the door. 'Sit down, what happened? You're alarming me.'

She settled on the sofa, as if taking a moment to gather her thoughts."

"I accidentally overheard a conversation between Gustos and Dr. Dzi. They were talking about some... dark dealings. I don't know what to do with this information," she said.

"What exactly were they discussing?" Henry furrowed his brows, feeling the atmosphere in the room becoming increasingly tense.

"There were threats and blackmail. Dr. Dzi mentioned having dirt on Gustos and something about industrial espionage," Jane's voice trembled, as if she was uttering a spell capable of shattering the world around her.

Henry sighed, looking down.

"This is serious, Jane. Such information could have catastrophic consequences. And I think this was a conversation about Zain," Jane said, noticing how Henry began to ponder, as if searching for the right thread in a tangle of unsolved mysteries.

"Why do you think that? They were talking about dark dealings. Nothing specific about Zain," Henry said, his eyebrows knitting suspiciously.

Jane took a deep breath. "They were talking about some guy, and how he was supposedly framed. Think about it, what has recently happened? Framing, espionage... it's all connected. Let's talk to Fisher. Maybe he can shed some light on the situation."

And so they did, leaving Henry's office and heading through the dark corridors towards Fisher's office.

In the agency's corridor, Gustos walked with a light step, his strides quick and determined. Jane and Henry encountered him in the hallway and noticed that he seemed suspicious; his face was tense. Like a whirlwind, he passed by them and quickly entered his office.

"Dr. Dzi, I gave him everything — a top-notch laboratory to the chance to change the world. And he just walks out over some triviality with his wife?" Gustos thought, closing his office door.

At that moment, the door flung open, and William, the head of the Experimental-Analytical Department, entered.

"May I, sir?" asked William.

Gustos looked up from his computer screen and pierced William with his cold eyes.

"Yes, come in. What brings you here?" Gustos replied.

"You said we would talk after the ceremony. I believe that time has come," William answered, his voice calm but underlined with a hint of impatience.

Gustos leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers in front of him.

"Ah, a promotion, right? I told you that you need to first complete the communicator project for transmitting basic human emotions. How is the progress on that?" asked Gustos.

"I'm doing everything I can, sir. But so far... no significant results," said William. His voice conveyed more than just disappointment — it seemed like restrained fury.

"Oh, William," Gustos smirked, his eyes narrowing. "We have little time, and you even less, but you have plenty of opportunities. Hurry up, while he's here, you know who I'm talking about, right? And remember: not a word about your work, especially to Dr. Dzi. Is that clear?"

William barely restrained a snort.

"Understood, sir," he replied.

He left the office, the door closing behind him with a soft click. A spark flickered in William's eyes, his fists involuntarily clenched.

"A promotion, you say?" his thoughts were filled with hidden menace. "First, I'll finish this damned communicator, and then, Gustos, we'll have a very serious conversation."

***

"As soon as Jane and Henry entered Fisher's office, he immediately realized something serious had happened.

'What brings you here so late? And why do you look so tense?' Fisher asked, glancing at their faces, which radiated seriousness.

They told him everything — about the overheard conversation, the mysterious threats, and their suspicions regarding Zain.

'Interesting, very interesting,' Fisher murmured, making mental notes. 'You'll have to be very careful. If your intuition is right, the stakes may be much higher than you think.'

Fisher removed his glasses, slowly placed the documents on the table, and rubbed them. An unusual tension in the air of the office became almost tangible, like a dense fog before a storm.

'Can we verify this somehow?' Henry asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

'No, there's no way to do that,' Jane replied with a sense of hopelessness. 'Unless we can get inside Gustos’s head…'

At that moment, Fisher, who was sitting in his chair, suddenly tensed, as if a sudden idea had struck him. 'Wait… I have a thought.'

With those words, he took his phone and began to type rapidly. All eyes were fixed on him. 'I have someone who might be able to help us with this,' he said, continuing to type."

"I've arranged it. We'll meet now," Fisher said, looking up after finishing.

"Now? It's the middle of the night, when did you arrange this?" Jane asked in surprise.

"I think I know what he wants to use for the meeting," Henry frowned, as if solving a complex puzzle.

"You're right, Henry. That's exactly it. The dream and memory capsules and social network created by our company," Fisher smiled.

"I don't like those capsules of yours," Jane said, her eyes dimming momentarily, reflecting her displeasure.

"So, it's decided. We're going to our social network 'Memoria'," Fisher said, putting his phone on the table and looking at Jane and Henry, sensing a mix of resolve and apprehension in their eyes.

They stood up and headed to the door, behind which was the capsule room. Walking down the corridor, they stopped in front of a glass door, behind which modern capsules stood in a row, like cocoons from some sci-fi movie. "Are you sure?" Jane asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"More than ever," Fisher replied, opening the door.

They entered the room, and the air instantly seemed different to them — cool, clean, filled with the indescribable scent of the future. Henry looked around, noticing how the indicators on the capsules flickered with multicolored lights, as if waiting for them.

"I guess this will be a journey into the inner world, into the very depths of consciousness," he said with a hint of irony, momentarily staring at the reflection of his face in the glass of one of the capsules.

"I hope it's not as terrible there as in the real world," Jane replied gloomily, settling into one of the capsules. Her hands touched the soft seat, and she felt her pulse quicken.

"Only time will tell," Fisher concluded, closing the capsule lid with a soft hydraulic sound.

Suddenly, they found themselves whisking through the digital corridors of memories, searching for the 'Espresso' café. The speed of their journey was staggering, and finally, they arrived.

"Welcome to 'Espresso', even though it's just a digital reflection of our world. Imagine how many memories are stored here," said Jane, looking around at the virtual tables and chairs. They were surprisingly realistic; even the coffee beans on the barista's counter, under the light of virtual lamps, looked real.

Fisher smiled. "This is just the beginning, friends. Just the beginning."

"Not that I don't appreciate creativity, but it's still strange to be here," Jane said, looking at her virtual hands.

As they settled into the virtual café, the atmosphere filled with anticipation. A girl in an elegant waitress uniform, who, like everything in this world, seemed strangely weightless and perfect, approached them. "Good day, gentlemen. What would you like to order?"

"Three hazelnut coffees, please," Fisher said, his eyes scanning the crowd outside the window as if searching for someone or something.

In the street light filtering through the glass, Fisher seemed to come alive. He suddenly raised his hand, as if recognizing a familiar face among the passersby, and waved, inviting someone to join them.

"Who is that?" Henry frowned, puzzled. Fisher just smiled in response, his gaze full of mysterious interest.

Henry's heart pounded in anticipation when he saw a familiar figure approaching their table. Fisher, meanwhile, watched the approaching figure with a smile that teetered between joy and excitement, as if preparing to reveal a secret stored in this virtual world. "Do you know her?" Henry whispered in confusion, his eyes not leaving her.

But it was too late to ask questions. The footsteps became clearer, and soon a familiar voice sounded behind Henry: "Glad to see you, Fisher."

Turning around, Henry saw her — a woman with long waves of stein-like hair gracefully falling over her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with recognition, and her presence filled the café with electricity.

The light from the dimmed lamps touched her face as she sat down opposite Henry. Her gaze was warm and familiar. "Hello, boys," she said, her voice soft like velvet. She looked at Henry, and their eyes met.

"At that moment, time seemed to stand still. Fragments of dreams surfaced in Henry's mind — dreams he had nearly every night. Dreams where he met her. In them, they were together, in a world that belonged only to them. They walked on deserted beaches, danced under the moon, or simply lay watching the stars.

Fisher, noticing their gaze, felt the tension in the air. He tilted his head, as if giving them a moment alone.

'Is that... you?' Henry whispered slowly.

'And I remember you, from those dreams,' she nodded, and something incredibly tender flickered in her eyes.

Fisher smiled to himself, realizing... he was witnessing something special. The beginning of something new and possibly fateful.

Henry and the woman heard the distant noise of waves, engulfing the noise around them, and a thin breeze bringing coolness enveloped them, feeling the stuck sand between their fingers. Under this magical veil, Henry was like in a slow-motion scene from a movie. His gaze, lost in the girl's eyes, sought answers to many questions.

'This... This can't be real...' Henry said.

Fisher, observing Henry's friendly trance, tried to bring him back to reality:

'Hey! Henry, what's wrong with you?'"

"Do you remember me?" asked the mysterious girl, in whose eyes Henry was lost.

"You... from my dreams?" Henry whispered, as if waking up from a deep sleep.

"Henry, this is Adele. Adele, Henry. Though, it seems you already know each other," Fisher smiled, as if he knew the answers to questions that hadn't yet been asked.

Henry, in some kind of trance, just nodded, his gaze on the verge between dream and reality, as if trying to decipher the hidden text in this encounter.

"The world is full of surprises, isn't it?" Adele winked with a light and mysterious smile.

In the warm light of the café, their gazes met, and in that moment, all boundaries between dream and reality vanished. Henry realized this was one of those moments when life writes its most unexpected scripts.

"Adele, how are you doing?" Fisher began with a note of anxiety in his voice, unexpectedly taking Adele's hand with genuine concern in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Fisher, I'm fine," Adele smiled, slightly overwhelmed by such attention, slowing her pace and looking into his eyes.

"Fisher briefly told me. What do you think I can do for you?" Adele looked at Henry.

"There's something we need to discuss..." Fisher began in almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

"What's going on, Fish? You sound like you have a plan to save Zain," Henry raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

Fisher nodded: "I've learned of a place where we can find answers. But it's dangerous."

"What are you talking about?" Jane asked, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Come on, don't beat around the bush, you know what's at stake," Jane said warily.

"Speak up, how bad is it? What kind of trouble are we getting into?" Henry asked.

"Very!" Fisher cut in, tiredly rubbing his temples.

"So..." Fisher began, but was interrupted by Adele, who suddenly froze, as if pieces of a puzzle were coming together in her mind.

"Oh, God! I get what you're talking about! No, don't even ask for such madness!" Adele exclaimed, abruptly standing up from her chair.

"Lake Gavrac," Fisher said in a mysterious voice.

"And allow me to introduce Adele. She will help us figure out this situation," Fisher said, emphasizing each word with special importance. Henry shifted his attention to Adele, sensing something magical in her presence.

"I'm a researcher in a rather unusual field. I study the interconnection between the world of the living and the world of the dead. I'm also an archaeologist and work on excavations of ancient civilizations," Adele smiled, her eyes filled with a complex spectrum of emotions and knowledge. Her words seemed to sing, each carrying veiled wisdom and depth.

"Now, let me tell you about Lake Gavrac. It's not just an artifact or a myth. It's a key, connecting multiple dimensions and timelines," Adele continued, pausing for effect.

"Lake Gavrac is a place shrouded in legends. It's said to serve as a portal between that world and ours. Souls that haven’t found peace wander here, stuck between worlds. No one alive has dared to set foot on its shores," she added.

"So, is it like a waiting place? A place where souls decide where to go next?" Jane asked, tilting her head with interest.

Henry, who was a bit behind the others in understanding the situation, looked from one to the other, trying to grasp the context. Adele then turned to Fisher:

"Well, don't keep us in suspense! Both of you, what's this about?"

Fisher took a deep breath and, shifting his gaze to each of the present, began to share what he had learned.

"To help Zain, we might have to venture into the very heart of Lake Gavrac," someone said.

"You mean..." Henry raised an eyebrow, his eyes flashing with distrust and anxiety.

"Oh, it'll be a real adventure! Like in fantasy novels!" Jane exclaimed enthusiastically, not waiting for the discussion to end, interrupting the men.

"Jane, this isn't a game, or a novel. This is our reality, and the dangers are absolutely real. We can't afford the luxury of recklessness," Adele sighed, feeling the weight of the moment, and turned to Jane.

"I... I understand, Adele," Jane said, feeling her enthusiasm fade, leaving room for fear and worry.

"This isn't a plan to save Zain, it's suicide, for someone else of us!" Jane shouted, her hands trembling as if trying to stop the inevitable.

"Okay, let's calm down, we'll discuss everything," Fisher said composedly, lowering his hand onto the table as if physically trying to slow down the passions.

"There's nothing to discuss, it's a deadly plan!" Jane interjected again, but now her voice sounded less confident.

"Can I just finish my plan, and then we can decide, okay?" Fisher frowned.

Everyone agreed. Fisher began to describe:

"Into Lake Gavrac... This place is where those who are between life and death end up. It's like a station at a railway terminal between that world and ours. Everyone passes through this lake. They call it the 'lake of purification' - it's where souls are directed to their respective destinations. Just as passengers are registered at a regular station, so too are all 'passengers' there."

The room fell silent. Fisher's words, like drops, fell into the silent lake of their consciousness, causing ripples and reflections.

"So what are you getting at, we need to put someone in a coma or what?" asked Henry.

"You can't mean..." Adele said with horror and indignation in her eyes, looking at Fisher, suspecting where he was heading.

Fisher nodded:

"If we send someone there, we will have a chance to get answers directly from those who know the truth."

"You're talking about voluntarily putting someone in a coma? For some time? That's madness!" Jane looked at Fisher, not understanding.

"It's risky, Fisher. Even if one of us decides to take such a step, there's no guarantee they can come back," Adele said firmly.

"It's indeed a crazy plan. But if we have no other choice, then we have to take the risk. But who among us will volunteer?" Fisher rubbed his hands together.

"No, no, don't put anyone in a coma! It's much simpler than that!" Adele said almost hysterically, getting agitated in the dimly lit room where Fisher stood in front of friends, his every word tensing the atmosphere.

"Interesting to hear an alternative to a coma. So tell us, what do you have in mind?" Henry, looking a bit confused, replied.

"Have you ever heard how oracles predicted the future? Or something that no one else knew?" Adele sighed.

"We don't know, tell us!" Henry and Jane said in unison.

"Some oracles prepared a special elixir that put them into a deep trance. This trance was like a coma, but..." Adele began.

"So, we have to make such an elixir?" Fisher interrupted her.

"No, listen carefully! This elixir allowed them... to sleep within a dream." Adele, raising her hand, asked him to be quiet.

"How? Sleep within a dream?" Henry asked, not understanding; his eyes sought an answer in Adele's eyes.

"Exactly," confirmed Adele, "It's hard to explain, but it's possible. And most importantly, we can do it without the elixir."

"For that, you need to go to the Espherian spring. That's where this water is located." Adele, catching her breath, said in a moment of silence, with only a light rustle of wind outside being heard.

"They say it's this water that fills Lake Gavrac, invisible to the ordinary eye," Adele responded.

"God, what kind of madness is this?" Jane grimaced.

Adele looked at Jane with a mysterious smile, took a deep breath, and began: "There are a couple of 'minor details' that I missed. First of all, near the Espherian spring, there are Phobirians*. They guard it. If one of these beings touches you in a dream, the consequences in the real world can be fatal.

Phobirians are ephemeral guardians of the Espherian spring, taking the form of the deepest fears and nightmares of people approaching the spring. They consist of dark, smoky energy and do not have a constant physical form.

"And there's more?" Jane turned pale, her eyes widening in horror.

Adele made an invisible pause, as if weighing her next words: "Secondly, after encountering the Phobirians, you may start seeing them in the real world too. They can 'stick' to you when you return from Espherian. They will be like uninvited guests, haunting you at the most inconvenient times of life. Sometimes, they might even help you, but remember, it will always be in their interest, not yours."

"This... this is frightening," Jane whispered, feeling her skin crawl.

"Personally, I think all this is nonsense. But who am I to judge? In any case, it's better to be prepared," Adele shrugged, her eyes sparkling for a moment.

A tense silence followed. None of the people present were ready for such a turn of events. Everyone in the room exchanged glances, the air seemed to tighten with anticipation. Fisher, leaning on a chair, looked intently at each person.

"So, who's ready to sacrifice for the common cause? Any volunteers to step forward?" he asked.

"We're sitting down. What step?" Jane replied teasingly, sitting next to him.

"It's metaphorical, of course," Henry smiled.

"Well then, who's first? Or maybe someone has other ideas?" continued Fisher

Silence filled the room. Everyone understood the gravity of the moment, and nobody wanted to be the first to take the risk. The sound of ticking clocks seemed loud in the tense atmosphere, and each person sought answers in the eyes of the others.

"The registry, you say? Sounds simple, but I think there's more to it than just a counter with a secretary," Henry started.

"Great, we're about to venture almost to the other side, to an information desk!" Jane interjected.

"Yes, maybe we'll even have to take a number and sit in line. After all, it's essentially a kind of heavenly information bureau," Fisher chuckled.

Henry sighed, approaching the window and gazing into the void: "But this is the only way to find out the story of what happened. We need this information."

"It may sound crazy, but we need to take the risk," Jane added, standing up from the sofa.

"Alright, Adele, what are our requirements to carry out this task?"

Adele looked thoughtfully at Henry: "To implement the plan, we'll need three components: a capsule for storing memories, a mechanism for transferring objects into memories, and a sound silencer to neutralize the guards at the spring."

"Zeyn probably has something from this list at his home. We'll definitely check with him," Henry smiled, as if an idea had just sparked in his head.

Adele, biting her lip nervously and looking cautiously into his face, said, "Henry, I'm just afraid you've taken on something beyond your abilities. Monsters, a lake, another world... This is no joke."

"I know it's scary. But we're not alone," Henry smiled.

"So, who is volunteering to dive into this lake — huh?" Jane's eyes sparkled with a mix of mockery and seriousness.

Fisher smirked, sarcastically raising an eyebrow: "Yes, who among us is brave enough to plunge into these icy depths of mysticism?" His gaze slid over the faces around him, as if searching for an answer in their eyes. The room was filled with silence, stretched like a canvas before an artist, waiting for the first stroke.

The light from the sun shining through the window caressed the tables and chairs, casting whimsical shadows on the cracked walls of the room.

"I realize the risks are great," Henry broke the silence, his gaze fixed on Adele as if seeking support, his voice trembling with inner turmoil, as though convincing himself of his determination. "But it was I who dragged Zeyn into this dangerous affair. So, I should take the responsibility." He stood up, his voice sounding firm and decisive. "So, I'm going, and that's final. There's nothing more to discuss."

Adele sat hunched in her chair, her gaze impenetrable. Her mind was teeming with anxiety; she had just found her perfect companion in her dreams, and now she was risking losing him. She fought the terror trying to take over her mind, trying not to succumb to her emotions.

"In that case, let's get started with the preparations. The sooner we start, the sooner it will all be over," Henry sighed deeply, sensing her hesitation, and stood up from the table, already fully focused on the tasks ahead.

8. Lake Havrak

"Through the glass eyes of the old factory, where the light of lanterns painted eerie figures on the dimmed walls, Adel felt at home. Rusty pipes stretched around like the arteries of a tired heart, emerging from one building and piercing another. Cobwebs, like a mist of time, hung from the ceilings, creating the illusion of a lost world. She had set up one of the abandoned hangars, turning it into an oasis of comfort amid chaos and ruin.

In this amazing location, resembling a fantastical set, everyone gathered at Adel's house, preparing for a dive into the mysterious Lake Gavrak.

'Are you all sure about your decision?' Adel asked, standing next to the capsule in the center of the space. The round object, made of a combination of glass and metal, resembled some artifact from the future. Inside was a soft chair, as comfortable as the best movie theaters, waiting for its passenger.

'I know this is not easy, guys,' began Henry. 'And I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate each one of you.' He took a deep breath, looked around at everyone, and stopped at Adel. There was some kind of invisible magnetism between them, a warm understanding without words. 'Tell my father that I love him,' Henry whispered, then took a deep breath and stepped towards the capsule.

Fisher approached Henry, his face a mix of anxiety and hope. He looked at the monitor, then met Henry's eyes.

'We will have a connection with you, but only up to the lake,' he said, as if passing on some mysterious key.

'Up to the lake, then,' murmured Henry, as if these were the code words triggering further events.

'Is everything ready?' Adel asked, approaching the monitor, which flickered with symbols and indicators, but no answer came. Friends stood around, as if freezing in anticipation of a miracle or a catastrophe."

"Adel approached him and was the last to touch his hand as the capsule lid closed. Tears were in her eyes, but her gaze expressed hope: everyone knew that Henry was taking a big risk, and that made him even more special in their eyes.

She looked at them again, then at the screen, and finally, pressed the 'Start' button. As soon as her finger touched the surface, the entire hangar seemed to tremble with invisible energy.

At that moment, his consciousness seemed to drift away from reality. Images and fragments of memories surfaced in his mind — not his own, but as if they had come from some other life, another time. He seemed to glide through a corridor of unexplored memories that did not fit into the logic of his past. In the dark world where Henry found himself, everything was distorted. Buildings floated and warped as if in the mirrors of a laughter corridor at an old fair, and the sky above was a deep indigo color, with stars dancing in strange, unnatural configurations.

Suddenly, he found himself on a narrow bridge, under which a river of purple liquid churned, emitting steam and making a dull bubbling sound. Each step on this bridge was a trial for Henry, as the air was filled with ethereal clouds of fear that emanated cold.

Suddenly, figures emerged from the dark corners, representing various human fears. Some were large and frightening, while others were small and quick as shadows.

'Don't look at them,' whispered Fisher's voice in his ear, coming from the headphones. 'You're here for the device, don't get distracted.'"

Focusing his attention, Henry moved forward, bypassing the figures of fears. His breathing quickened as he saw some of them trying to reach him. Delving into a gloomy alley, he found the device. It was shimmering with a soft light.

"There it is!" Henry whispered, taking the device in his hands. He felt the device begin to vibrate and immediately felt a sense of relief. He believed that with this device, he could confront the physical fears and accomplish his mission.

The mysterious spring was like a portal to another dimension, going into unexplored depths. Near it grew twisted trees with black leaves, and the water in the spring sparkled with a multitude of colors, creating a hypnotic pattern.

The entities around the spring were something between ghosts and monsters. They were elusive and formless, but their presence filled the air with a heavy atmosphere of threat. When Henry activated the device, these entities seemed to lose control of themselves. They forgot their task of guarding the spring and began to dart around chaotically, creating havoc.

Suddenly, panic seized Henry. He was surrounded on all sides by shadows born of his deepest fears. He tried to make his way back, to the exit from this nightmare, but each of his steps seemed to only deepen him into this labyrinth of horror.

"Damn, what's happening?" he yelled, trying to find the off button on the device. But the monitor was foggy, and nothing was responsive.

"Henry, can you hear us? What's happening?" Fisher's voice came from afar, as if from another world, but it was almost indistinguishable amidst the chaos.

"I can't... I'm not in control!" Henry yelled back, trying to turn off the device. But the shadows continued to dart around, clouding his mind, penetrating every crevice of his consciousness.

Henry screamed into the transmitter, but all that came back was deafening silence, interrupted by static noise.

"Fisher! Fisher! Can you hear me?!" Henry's desperate voice cut through the air, vibrating in his headphones like an echo in an empty temple. He felt fear gripping him, like a cold wind in the desert at night.

At that moment, on the brink of despair, he heard Fisher's faint voice: "Henry! Calm down! Focus on the spring! Try to use the device as an anchor!"

Henry surged forward. Fisher's words were a beacon in the darkness. Clutching the device in his hand, he ran towards the spring, bypassing the shadows of fears that flickered before him, trying to capture him in their invisible embrace.

Henry felt the spring drawing him in like a magnet. Without a second thought, he jumped inside — and at that very moment, felt a barely perceptible touch. As if someone or something had nudged him.

Regaining consciousness, Henry tried to figure out what had happened. His head ached, and he could barely remember the last moments before he lost consciousness. He was sure that he had been in danger from the guardians of the shadows of fears, but now there was absolute silence around him.

"Henry, where are you?!" Fisher's voice sounded in the headset. "We can't see you on the monitors!"

"I... I'm not at the spring. I'm near some lake," Henry murmured, looking around.

"A lake?!" Adel was surprised. "You've been transported to another location? But how? We didn't think that was possible!"

"I think the touch of one of the guards might have caused this transition," Henry said, trying to understand what had happened.

Henry found himself in front of an immense expanse of water — a lake with no beginning or end. It was like a mirror of the world, piercingly pure and mysterious. The sky above him was strewn with silvery clouds, which found their reflection in the transparent depths of the water.

"I can't believe it... this is just incredible," Henry whispered, unable to take his eyes off this wonder.

Small waves, breaking on the shore, whispered to him an unclear melody. It was like a distant lullaby, as if the echo of his childhood had materialized.

"Do you hear that?" he turned around, but realized he was there alone.

In the distance, like guardians of this mystical place, stood trees. Their silhouettes appeared motionless, frozen in anticipation of something great, as if they knew the secrets hidden in the depths of this lake.

"Well, I guess it's time to find out what this place is," Henry said aloud, as if making an unspoken alliance with this mysterious lake and its no less enigmatic guardians.

The lake was deep and dark, like a mirror of another world. Its dark waters reflected the pale sky, through which rare rays of light broke through.

"Henry, stop!" exclaimed Adel. "You don't know what's at the bottom!"

"I have to do this," replied Henry, feeling the water wash over his feet. "Maybe this is another chance to find a way out of this nightmare."

"But it's dangerous!" Fisher shouted. "You might not come back!"

Henry continued to walk deeper into the lake, each step accompanied by heavy breathing and the rumbling of water. The water reached his chest, and he felt it pulling him down. But instead of fear, Henry felt a strange calm.

"I feel something," he whispered. "As if the water is calling me."

With that, he took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs and every cell of his body awaken. Before him lay a road into the unknown, but now he knew — he was ready.

Henry felt as if his ears had become antennas, picking up distant whispers: "A newcomer has arrived..." "I wonder how he got here?" The whisper seemed so familiar and yet so distant.

Realizing that the answers to his questions lay ahead, Henry took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. He closed his eyes, prepared to dive, and plunged into the water.

The sensation of falling was unexpected and frightening. Henry felt the wind roaring past him. He didn't dare open his eyes, caught between fear and exhilaration.

Just when he thought the fall would be eternal, he felt solid ground beneath him. Henry lay there, trying to compose himself and understand what had happened.

For a moment, Henry thought it was just a dream. Before him stretched his childhood yard, bathed in the rays of the setting sun. The scents of childhood – blooming acacia and freshly cut grass – enveloped him, awakening long-forgotten memories. It was here, on this playground, that they played football, chased each other, and dreamed of great adventures.

"Inna, where's my friend? Remember, we were always together," Henry began, cautiously approaching her. She slowly lifted her head, and her eyes met Henry's.

"Your friend isn't here," her voice sounded as though through a dense fog.

Henry frowned: "Are you sure? He wasn't here?"

"No, he didn't come," Inna dismissed, returning to her childhood games.

"Inna, tell me, did you really choose me back then?" Henry gathered his courage and addressed her again.

"Yes, she chose you, fool!" Inna looked up, her eyes flashing with something strange – a mix of surprise and mocking slyness. "Have more confidence in yourself, Henry. Not everything in life is unclear signals and mysteries." She smiled, but there was a note of seriousness in her smile.

Inna's words, and who she was at that moment, like rays of sunshine, pierced through the fog of his doubts. Henry smiled back, feeling his heart settling into place.

This answer brought clarity to Henry's memory but also added even more questions.

"Time seemed stretched to infinity. Henry felt the weight of too many realities around him, but none of them felt truly real. The courtyard, Inna, the whispers of the lake - it all intertwined in his head, creating a turmoil of emotions.

"Why was I thrown here?" Henry whispered, trying to understand his situation. "Guys, if you can hear me, I'm here! I want to come back!"

But the girl, with a smirk on her face, continued to play with her doll, as if mocking his despair: "You won't leave here," she said with the same cruelty in her voice.

On the other side of reality, among Henry's earthly friends, panic was growing. They watched his nearly breathless body, trying to revive him: "Henry! Respond!" echoed among their voices. They tried to use various devices to reach him, but to no avail.

"What's wrong with him? Why isn't he responding?" Fisher asked in horror.

In the world between realities, Henry tried to resist, but each attempt to escape seemed increasingly futile. He felt lost, like a prisoner in the liminal space between worlds. And although his friends were so close, they seemed to him as far away as if on the other side of the Universe.

"Adel, what should we do? Henry... he..." Fisher seemed to whisper into the ether, not knowing if his words would find their way.

Adel and Jane, paralyzed by sudden shock, stared at the flickering screens of the monitors, where a troubling picture unfolded. The light from the screens reflected on their pale faces, betraying their inner tension.

"Call Zeyn," Adel said, barely parting her lips, as if returning to reality from the depths of her stupor.

Fisher suddenly jumped up from his seat, his eyes widened in fear. "How can I call him? He's in prison!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with panic.

Then, as if gaining some confidence, he added: "Okay, I have my father's friend, he works in the police. I think I can get through to him."

Fisher quickly grabbed his phone and started dialing a number. His fingers trembled as he waited for the connection. A tense silence reigned in the room, only the sound of the dial tone on Fisher's phone breaking it. Adel and Jane watched him, holding hands, waiting for news.

Meanwhile, Henry was somewhere in the unknown, between two worlds.

Suddenly, Fisher said:

"Zeyn, it's an emergency! Henry is in a coma, and we don't know how to get him out. He's at a lake, but not at a lake. The connection's lost!" Fisher's voice trembled as he spoke into the phone.

"What happened?" Zeyn's voice was tense.

"He touched something or someone at the spring, and now he's somewhere at a lake, but out of our reach. We've lost the connection!" Fisher continued.

"I have a plan, but it's risky. Henry has a chip in his device, and you have the same. We need to create a link between them (short circuit them). This is our only chance to pull him out," Zeyn pondered before speaking.

"How do we do that?" Fisher asked, incredulous.

"Through saliva. It improves contact," Zeyn replied quickly. "You will have to kiss Henry, and someone activates the device above your heads at that moment, which transports objects into dreams."

"Are you joking?" Fisher exclaimed in horror.

"I'm serious. It might work like an electric shock to the brain, to wake him up. But there's a risk. You might also go into a coma," Zeyn confidently stated.

"We can't risk another life. Maybe there's another way?" Fisher inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

"Zeyn: As of now, this is our only chance, Fisher. But the decision is yours."

Fisher's heart pounded furiously. He knew every second counted, and he had to make a decision. But the risk was too great. He closed his eyes, imagining himself in Henry's place, trying to feel what he would do in his situation.

The moment seemed eternal. Everything was enveloped in tense anticipation, and only the faint buzzing of the device in Fisher's hand broke the silence.

In the depths of the room, where the capsule stood like a monolith of time and space, everyone held their breath. Zeyn explained over the phone what needed to be done, and in response — heavy silence.

"I won't do it," Jane said resolutely, feeling fear literally paralyzing her.

Fisher turned to Adel. "And you? Can you?"

Adel looked at Henry, his closed eyes, his face covered in the patina of tension even in a coma. "There's my guilt in this too," she whispered to herself, clenching her fists.

"I'll do it," she said, her voice resounding with irrevocable determination.

Approaching the capsule, Adel felt waves of fear and doubt enveloping her. She stood before a pivotal moment, knowing she could not retreat. Taking a deep breath, she leaned towards Henry and touched her lips to his cold ones.

"I never thought our first kiss would be like this," she whispered, barely touching his lips.

At that moment, an invisible string seemed to resonate around them, and the room filled with inexplicable energy. A spark flew between them, and it seemed that even the capsule trembled momentarily.

Fisher, sensing this magical force, wasted no time. He quickly took the device and aimed it at Adel and Henry. The device beeped, lit up, and... a moment of tension stretched like an eternity.

Sparks scattered in all directions, like a miniature aurora borealis. The air filled with electricity, and everyone nearby felt a jolt of current. Henry's body jerked, and his eyes suddenly opened as if he had been awakened from a deep sleep.

The sound of the flash was so loud that it seemed for a moment as if a bomb had exploded in the room. The next moment was filled with a deafening ringing in Fisher's ears. His eyes widened in horror, seeing Adel, who had been thrown back from Henry's capsule. She lay on the floor, motionless, like a doll forgotten in a game.

Fisher hurried over to her, checking her pulse and breathing. Her heart was beating, but her breathing was weak.

"Meanwhile, Henry seemed unchanged. For a moment, Fisher thought that it was all in vain, that their attempt to save him had failed. But then he noticed a faint trembling of Henry's eyelids, and hope rekindled in his eyes.

Raising his head and seeing Fisher's playful expression, Henry smirked: "Did you really think you'd lose me that easily?"

But the mirth quickly faded from his face upon seeing Adel on the floor. "What's wrong with her?!" Henry exclaimed, trying to get up.

Adel moved away, breathing deeply, trying to recover from such strain. She glanced at Henry, who was trying to sit up and understand what had happened. His eyes, full of bewilderment, met Adel's, and something between them changed. Despite all the circumstances, their kiss was not just an act of salvation; it became something more, something that would change their relationship forever.

"Not now," Fisher quickly replied, "we need to help her."

Henry, still trying to compose himself, leaned back in his chair. "That was... an unusual journey," he remarked, trying to gather his thoughts.

"I don't want to go into details, but I met a girl there - from Tom's memories," said Henry, his eyes noticeably darkening as if pondering a deep and complex question.

"And what? Probably just a phantom, or an image," replied Fisher, trying to make sense of the situation.

"No, you don't understand. She said that Tom was never there. I don't know what that means, but it can't be just a coincidence," Fisher sighed deeply, his gaze filled with mixed feelings — confusion and uncertainty, but also some incomprehensible certainty.

"So, you actually talked to this girl? Was she somehow connected to the registry of souls?" Adel, looking at him with concern, asked.

"It seems so," Henry replied, feeling a strange heaviness in the pit of his stomach. "She claimed that there's not a word about Tom in their records. As if he... just didn't exist."

"What, like... an administrative error on a cosmic scale?" Jane furrowed her brow, her gaze wary.

"So, she's what, a ledger of souls between worlds? Some kind of astral accountant?" Fisher smiled, but there was apprehension in his eyes.

"More like a registrar," Henry clarified, stroking his chin. "But the essence remains the same. She seems to manage the flow of souls between this world and the next."

"That would explain his absence from their system. Perhaps his soul didn't reach this... 'registration desk'?" Adel mused thoughtfully, nodding slightly.

"It's possible. But the key point is that Tom is most likely alive. Missing, but alive. This means we have a task. And that task is to find out where he is and what happened to him," Henry felt the tension in the air intensify.

"So we still don't know what happened to your friend? Maybe it's worth checking again?" Fisher began, a barely perceptible irony in his voice.

Henry squinted as if trying to penetrate the essence of Fisher's invisible feelings: "Your irony is out of place here, Fisher. Adel sacrificed herself to help me. Maybe you should think before making light of such things?"

Fisher looked at him, the smile on his face slightly fading. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace, as if trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere between them: "Sorry, Henry. Didn't mean to offend. Just... it's a tense situation. I was trying to lighten the mood."

"I'm fine, Henry. I'm just still a bit shocked by everything that's happened. Don't blame Fisher," interjected Adel, who was sitting nearby and listening to their dialogue.

Henry sighed, tiredly rubbing his face: "Alright. Just... now's not the time for jokes. We've encountered something unknown, and I don't want us to have to face it again."

Fisher nodded, approaching Adel and offering her his hand for support: "I apologize. Let's just help each other and find a way out of this situation."

"Hey, Henry, Earth to Henry," said Fisher, lightly pushing his shoulder, observing Henry and understanding that he was shaken by what he had seen.

"Sorry, Fisher, I just... It was such a strange and unpleasant feeling. I felt like I was there and here at the same time," Henry shook his head as if to dispel some dark thoughts.

"You know, Henry, maybe you shouldn't be recalling all this right now. Try to distract yourself," Adel brought a teapot to the table and poured tea into the cups, trying to help.

"You're right, Adel. I'm just trying to understand what it was. But now we really need to distract ourselves," Henry looked at her and smiled.

"Here's to our friendship and to not getting into such weird situations anymore," Fisher raised his tea cup.

Everyone echoed the toast, and the atmosphere in the room became warmer and more friendly.

"Do you hear them?" suddenly blurted out Henry, and his voice hit the others like a cold gust of wind. Henry froze in the hushed room, his coffee cup still trembling in his hand. His eyes glazed over, as if he was looking through time and space.

"What's happening?" Adel asked, not hiding her concern, her eyes darting up to him, piercing and searching.

"I hear voices. Voices in my head, like whispers from another world," Henry was clearly shaken, his words hanging in the air like flying sparks from a bonfire. Everyone recoiled, as if an invisible force had emanated from him.

"Oh God," Adel whispered, her eyes widening in horror. "So it really happened. Some kind of fear in the guise of a monster from that spring has attached itself to him. Remember, he said something touched him?"

"But why? Why are they here? How do I get rid of them?" Henry clasped his head with his hands, as if trying to rid himself of the voices tormenting him.

"Did you tell us about this?" Fisher looked at Adel with a concerned expression.

"I thought it was just rumors, legends used to scare children. Besides... Henry was so eager to find answers. I couldn't stop him," Adel sighed and lowered her head.

"What should I do? This voice... it sounds so real, as if it's right next to me," Henry slowly raised his head and stared at the wall with a piercing gaze.

"We'll find a way to help you. But first, you need to understand that this voice is not reality. You're not alone, Henry. We're here," Adel approached Henry and took his hands.

"We'll be with you until we find a solution. None of us will leave you in trouble," Fisher nodded, supporting her words.

"You mean to say that I have something like a ghost or a demon inside me?" A deep anxiety reflected on Henry's face.

"Adel nodded: 'Not exactly. It's more like an ancient being or spirit, seeking salvation through a soul exchange. They became part of the legend of the Lake, but it seems these legends are based on reality.'

Henry rubbed his forehead: 'And what should I do? How can I rid myself of this being?'

Fisher, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, smirked: 'Maybe it just wants to talk? Get the latest news from the world of the living? Sit down and have a human conversation with it!'

'But it's not human, it's some kind of demon!'

'Actually, Henry, if you can establish contact, maybe you can find out what it needs. Perhaps it's just lost or looking for its family,' said Adel.

Henry sighed: 'I wish this were just a bad dream. But if this is the only way to get rid of this spirit, I'm willing to try.'

'It's time to switch gears,' Henry stood up and began pacing the room, as if trying to ward off the demons in his head, he said with forced confidence, trying to focus on reality. 'Besides, this spirit in my head can wait for now.'

'So, what do we have at the moment? We're almost certain that Tom wasn't there. I think there's no point in checking his presence in that world anymore,' he stopped, faced his friends, and continued Henry." "So, you're saying that Tom is alive?!" Jane, who had been sitting by the fireplace all this time, abruptly stood up.

"Yes, Jane. Tom is alive. And I think he's somewhere nearby," Henry nodded.

"And where the devil is he," Jane whispered, casting a glance at the darkened corners of the room, her eyes glistening with tears. "Sorry for the pun."

"We'll find him, Jane. We'll definitely find him," said Henry, walking over to her and putting his arms around her shoulders.

"There's only one way to check," Henry stood almost like a statue, his face was focused, as if he was trying to read the unwritten lines of fate.

"Wait a minute. You're seriously planning to check this at the cemetery? Right now, in the dark?" Fisher suddenly interjected, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"I know it sounds crazy, but if there's even the slightest chance that Tom is still alive, we need to check," Henry nodded.

"The funeral was held. But, on the other hand, if he wasn't at the Lake, it means there's something we don't know," Adel slowly sighed.

"Even if Tom is alive, why hasn't he contacted us? Why did he disappear?" Fisher crossed his arms.

"Maybe he was in danger or being held captive. We don't know the circumstances," Henry stared at the floor.

"Alright," Adel said, decisively standing up. "Let's go to the cemetery. We need to find out the truth, once and for all."

In the small room, bathed in the yellowish light of an old desk lamp, three friends discussed their plan. The curtains were tightly drawn, and tension hung in the air.

"Just don't tell me we need to go and do this at night!" exclaimed Jane, sitting tensely, her cheeks flushed. "I'm not going with you. I've had enough adventures for today."

"And what do you suggest? Go there in broad daylight, take a shovel and start digging?" Henry looked at her as if trying to solve a complex puzzle.

A tense silence hung in the room, as if time had momentarily frozen. Jane felt the gaze of everyone present on her.

"So one has already left," Fisher looked at Adel, feeling the weight of his words. "What do you say, Adel?"

"Oh God," Adel began, staring into her cup, slumping into a chair with a heavy sigh. "For me, this is probably even worse than going back to that damned lake and rechecking the lists. What if he really wasn't there?"

"Don't worry, you'll be on lookout. Henry and I will do the digging," Fisher raised his hand as if to alleviate both fears.

"Ah, of course, nothing to worry about standing watch in a cemetery at night while digging up a grave! Easy peasy. I think instead of tea I need something stronger to drink!" Adel smirked sarcastically.

"So, we meet, you know where, in an hour. If anyone is late, they'll have to go through the entire cemetery alone," Henry began, his eyes reflecting the light of the lamp on the wall, he joked!

"Yes, I'll be there," Adel whispered, feeling Henry's gaze and meeting it. Henry was particularly interested in her opinion.

"Is everyone ready?" Henry muttered, taking a deep breath. Like the shadow of the evening twilight, the trees at the entrance to the cemetery seemed almost alive, looming in the sinister fog. The gathered

group — Adel, Henry, and the others — exchanged tense glances before stepping over the threshold of the forbidden territory.

"Yes," Adel responded, and her eyes met his. In that look was a confidence, a certain kind of audacity, that they shared only in private.

"They stepped forward, and each step on the crunchy gravel path sounded like a curse spoken aloud," the tales of the old caretaker who lived near the ruined chapel weaved their grim net around them. "It was said he could summon spirits, knew rites better left unknown.

"Did you hear something?" Henry suddenly froze, as if struck by a sudden paralysis. His heart began to beat faster, tension appearing on his face. Adel, noticing his state, stopped next to him.

"Whispers. Over there, by that tree," he pointed to a dark silhouette in the shadow.

"Who do you see?" Adel and Fisher asked almost in unison.

"There's no one there," Fisher observed, scanning the darkness.

Then, in the distance, as if time had momentarily rolled back, stood the spirit from the spring. Its eyes seemed to capture the last rays of the sunset, turning them into something sparkling and simultaneously sinister.

"Oh God," Henry whispered, his gaze filled with anxiety. "It's calling me there."

"Let's see what it wants from us," Fisher suggested.

They moved towards the tree and, upon approaching, saw a grave. It bore the names of a woman and a little girl. All three began to carefully examine the tombstone, but only Henry saw the spirit bending over the grave, as if mourning the departed. Quickly pulling out his smartphone, Henry took a photo. Then they silently moved back, each lost in their own thoughts and feelings.

"We need to move faster," Adel whispered, and the group quickened their pace.

The moon was already high in the sky by then, illuminating the old cemetery with a pale, ghostly light. Its rays penetrated through the gaps between the branches of the trees, creating dancing shadows on the ground, like ancient spirits watching over this group of the living, daring to disturb the peace of the dead.

Approaching the grave, they took up shovels. Fisher and Henry began to dig, while Adel, holding a mobile phone with the flashlight on, went to stand on guard, anxiously looking around. From time to time, the wind brought strange sounds — rustling of leaves, a distant dog's howl, or even a barely audible whisper.

After nearly two hours of almost continuous digging, a tense silence hung in the air. Then came the familiar sound of a shovel striking wood. Fisher and Henry stopped, exchanging glances.

"We found it," Fisher said quietly.

Adel, hearing the sound, rushed over to them. Her eyes were widened with anxiety and curiosity. "What is it?" her voice trembled.

Henry carefully pushed the dirt aside, revealing the wooden lid of the coffin. All three held their breath, preparing to open it and discover the secret inside.

"With a soft creak and a tense silence in the air, Fisher and Henry began to lift the coffin lid," revealing to their eyes, the wood seemed to whisper of long-forgotten secrets. Beneath the lid was a pale face, on which time and decay had left their ghastly marks.

"Impossible..." Henry whispered, stepping back, his eyes wide with horror.

"I can't believe this!!!" Fisher, trying to comprehend what he saw, leaned in for a closer look, barely holding back nausea.

"This makes no sense," Henry, clutching the shovel in his hand, was more resolute.

Henry stood in the cemetery, hands gripping the shovel like the rod of fate. The moonlight illuminated the old, forgotten graves, as if highlighting the eternity.

"This makes no sense," he said, looking at the newly unearthed grave.

"It's Jane's father!" Adel exclaimed, as if awakened from a deep sleep.

"What did you say?" Henry turned around, his gaze piercing.

"Jane's father," Adel repeated, not looking away.

"Dr. Dzi... Jane's father? How? It's impossible," Henry said, not hiding his confusion.

"But it's true. Today, while we were drinking tea, she showed me his picture. And said it was her father," Adel replied, as if it explained everything.

"Let's stay calm. And not a word to Jane about this, okay? He's gone anyway, and we need to digest all this ourselves. I'll tell her when the time is right. Agreed?" Henry took a photo of the grave and slowly lowered his phone.

"Agreed. We keep this secret from Jane until we figure out what's going on," Fisher, standing against the backdrop of mysterious shadows and silently following the conversation, finally spoke.

"Yes," Adel said, sighing as if she found it difficult to breathe in this atmosphere of twilight and mystery.

"We need to be careful," Henry rubbed his chin, thoughtfully looking at the open coffin.

"I'm still trying to understand how it happened that no one saw who exactly they were burying?" Henry, furrowing his brow, paused and took a deep breath.

"I heard that the autopsy results showed his brain... well, to put it mildly... exploded. Maybe that's why the coffin was tightly closed, so no one would see the horror inside," Fisher, looking up at the sky, said thoughtfully.

"We were looking for one mystery but uncovered another. We need to find out what happened to Dr. Dzi and how he ended up here," Adel, recovering from the initial shock, shook her head.

The three friends, standing by the open coffin, realized that they were facing another mystery of the town that needed to be unraveled. The wind swept through the cemetery, stirring up dust and dry leaves. Henry, still reeling from what he had seen, scrolled through the photos on his phone.

"Look," Henry showed the screen to Fisher and Adel, "now we have evidence! We can prove that Zeyn is innocent."

"Henry, we trespassed here without permission, dug up someone's grave. These photos won't have legal validity," Fisher shook his head, always more prudent and cautious.

"Fisher is right. If we show these photos to the police, we could be charged with vandalism or worse," Adel sighed deeply.

"So, what, we just leave it like this and walk away? We need to come up with something," Henry grimaced, clutching the phone in his hand.

"First, let's rebury the coffin. Then we'll find another way to help Zeyn," Fisher said slowly, looking at the grave.

The three friends set to work again, trying to restore the grave to its original state. In each of their hearts burned a spark of determination to find the truth, despite all the difficulties and dangers.

"We thought we were getting closer to the solution, but it seems we've only delved deeper into this maze of mysteries," Henry said gloomily, clutching his phone, as the last shovel of dirt fell on the grave and the cemetery once again plunged into silence. The answers they sought seemed to have drifted even further away, lost in the darkness of the night and the thick fog of the past.

"The mysteries of this town are like old books – open one page, and you find ten more puzzles," Fisher said, looking back at the grave.

"But we can't just leave it like this. We have to keep searching for answers, for Zeyn's sake and our own," Adel added, sighing.

The three friends left the cemetery, their steps echoing in the quiet night. Though new challenges and difficulties lay ahead, they were ready to face them, united by a common goal and faith in the truth. The night sky above the town was full of stars, each seeming to bear witness to ancient secrets and stories. But it was these very secrets that propelled them forward, towards new adventures.

9. Not all holidays are celebrations.

On a wintry December morning on Christmas, from any window of the house, one could observe how nature crafts wonders. If you paused to look even for a moment, you could notice how it creates a festive winter mood. Nature takes its magic and begins to weave: it blankets the earth with fluffy, velvety snow, directs the wind to lay down the falling snow, flake by flake, embroidering a warm, snowy blanket for a festive winter morning. Lifting the morning rays of the sun, blinding the swirling snowflakes, filling them with rainbow rays. Giving frost a snowy, magical brush, allowing it to showcase its unique craftsmanship, filling everything around with patterns. In these patterns, one could see everything: the faces of people, stories being created right before your eyes, filling the magical mood of Christmas. There, one could also observe the creation of fairy-tale castles with high fences and sharp towers, see people looking into the distance beyond the clouds, watch winding roads being built through dense forests, see fantastic animals coming to life, and watch them run across mountain ridges. How the Firebird soars above the clouds—frost could embody anything it wished and invent any stories. They were only limited by your imagination. Nature, along with you, created the spirit of Christmas, which was about to enter every home, bringing laughter, joy, and a good festive mood.

In one of the intricate mansions of a well-to-do district, the door to a child's kingdom quietly opened. This corner of dream occupied the second floor of the house, lulling guests with delicate pink shades and endless toys. A wide, glazed semicircular window turned into a magical mirror of the world. On the warm wooden planks stood cute little beds and cabinets, reflecting the pink dreams of the room.

A little fairy in pajamas stood at the window, her eyes following the dance of the snowflakes. In her imagination, each one was born, flew, and then died, bringing joy. She imagined herself as one of them, dreaming of piercing the sky with light crystalline wings.

The shadow at the door gradually became brighter. It was her father, who, filled with pride and tenderness, watched his daughter. With each of his steps, the girl felt his presence, until she turned and saw his smiling face. "Daddy, what do you see there?" he asked.

Sparks of imagination played in her eyes: "I'm not alone here. I'm a snowflake. Now, I will land on the floor and be able to talk to you. But for now, I'm still in the air."

The father, with a smile, played along: "Let me catch you!" He skillfully caught her in his arms as she pretended to fall. "Now, you're my little snowflake!" he laughed.

"Dad, won't I melt if you hug me?" she asked in a whisper.

"Never," he replied confidently, holding her tight.

"Dad, do you know what Santa will bring me?"

"What did you write to him in your letter?" he asked with a smile in return.

Simona, an eight-year-old girl with eyes full of wonders, heard her father's voice: "Let's go downstairs and see what miracle Santa has brought you. You've been like an angel all year, right?" Simona nodded confidently: "I tried to be a good girl." Her father smiled warmly: "Then, my little snowflake, Santa surely left something special for you." Simona's laughter filled the room as she hugged her dad tightly.

The father felt her warmth and said: "Darling, remember, I will always love you."

"Now it's time for breakfast," he added, "Mom is waiting for us." Simona and her father went downstairs, where plates with aromatic pancakes and jam — Simona's favorite treat — were already set at the table. The mother tenderly said: "Enjoy your meal," and they together began to enjoy the morning warmth of the pancakes.

In the midst of breakfast, the father turned to his wife: "Is everything ready, dear? We are going to wish our friends a Merry Christmas." The mother nodded confidently, then thoughtfully asked: "What about the driver? Is he with us?" The father shook his head: "It's Christmas. I gave him the day off."

While the parents were gathering gifts, Simona returned to her room to get ready for the trip. Yet again, her gaze was drawn to the dancing snowflakes. Her father's voice pierced this moment: "Simona, are you ready?" She quickly replied that she was almost ready, but her thoughts were still with the snowflakes. "Soon, we'll be outside," she thought, "and I can see them again."

Having gathered and taken her favorite toy, Simona went downstairs. Her mother helped her put on shoes and a jacket, and soon the family was ready to set out. With a multitude of gifts and happy hearts, they set off to greet friends and relatives, leaving behind traces of joy and the warmth of Christmas.

Stepping outside, the sound of Christmas bells mingled with the soft glow of colored lights. They twinkled on houses, trees, and even poles, like bright notes of a festive melody. People, anticipating the miracle, carried home gifts and Christmas trees, filling the streets with excitement and a sense of magic. And despite the winter chill, the spirit of Christmas lingered all around, peeking into every window. Wherever there was a lack of festive spirit, it, like a magician, penetrated inside, bringing warmth, joy, and melodies of happiness. Each home, under its influence, filled with delight, children's laughter, and the magic of anticipating the most wonderful moment of the year.

So, they set off along the winding and twisting mountain roads, leading them to a mountain retreat. Christmas melodies played in the car, their voices, like birds, soared, performing old Christmas songs. Beneath their wheels, the road glittered with cleanliness; the snow seemed to have receded from their path. Through the windshield, the opposite lanes of the road flew by, like changing scenes in a movie.

In the distance, high above them, the lights of the city twinkled, creating an illusion of a starry sky. In the car, as if in rhythm with the heartbeat, the songs continued, lifting their souls higher towards the stars.

10. Valley of a Thousand Roses

"Zeyn," the lawyer began, slowly entering the cell and closing the door behind him. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in a neatly pressed suit with a striped tie. Stopping, he looked at Zeyn, who stood in the corner. "I've reviewed everything, but unfortunately, I'm not sure I can help. Your situation... it's too complex. You'd better find another lawyer."

Zeyn, showing no surprise but clearly disappointed, met his gaze. His face was full of fatigue and disillusionment. "I just need one phone call," he calmly replied, sighing and trying to maintain composure.

The lawyer, nodding in relief, responded: "That I can do for you."

Zeyn lowered his eyes, lost in thought. Despair and helplessness were evident in his gaze, mixed with a refusal to accept what was happening. He thought of Baron — a man with a dark reputation, feared by many in the city.

In the dim light of the cell, the lawyer left, and a police officer took his place. He pointed Zeyn towards a room with a phone. An old device, with copper elements, stood on the table. Zeyn, feeling his heart pounding with excitement, dialed Baron's lawyer's number.

"Hello, Mr. Voych's office. How can I help you?" a secretary's voice came through the phone.

Zeyn hesitated for a moment, then replied: "Hello, my name is Zeyn. I need Mr. Voych."

"One moment, please," the secretary answered, and Zeyn heard her conversations in the background. After a moment, she returned to the phone: "I'm sorry, Mr. Voych is currently busy. Call back later or leave a message."

"I'm at the police station, this is my only call," Zeyn said, trying to keep calm. "Please tell Mr. Voych that I have what Baron is looking for in exchange for freedom."

Following Zeyn's words, there was silence on the line before the secretary quietly said: "Okay, I'll pass that on." — "One moment..."

After a new tone, a husky male voice came through: "I'm listening."

It was Voych. Zeyn quickly explained his situation, omitting details about his friends, only saying that he had the exact equipment Baron needed. Voych pondered, then said: "I need time to consult with Baron."

The phone call ended. The police officer, standing at the door, signaled Zeyn to return to his place. With a heavy heart, he went back to his chair, preparing for a long wait.

The wait for a response from Baron turned into a real test of time for Zeyn — each minute in his prison cell stretched to infinity, as if the clocks slowed their pace, plunging into the abyss of eternity.

In the early morning light, the cell seemed especially cold and gray — but Voych's arrival brought a spark of life to this gloom. His penetrating gaze carefully studied Zeyn before he said, "Baron is willing to consider your offer." — "You'll be getting out of here soon," Voych said, and his words sounded to Zeyn like a promise filled with hope. In the courtroom, with its austere marble walls and solid wooden furniture, an atmosphere of seriousness and the rigor of the law prevailed. Quiet conversations, echoing between rows, created a sense of uncertainty and tension.

Zeyn, standing next to his lawyer Voych, was unyielding and focused. His gaze was firm, and every word he spoke sounded confident and decisive, reflecting his refusal to accept the charges.

Voych, professionally and confidently, presented arguments for Zeyn's release on bail. The judge, a man with silver hair and an attentive gaze, listened to Voych with respect, well aware of him as a lawyer capable of extracting clients from legal predicaments.

"Considering all circumstances and taking into account my client's reputation, I propose to consider the option of his release on bail," Voych concluded his address to the judge. The lawyer and judge's gazes briefly met, as if understanding each other without words.

The judge nodded, quickly glancing at his watch. "We'll take a fifteen-minute break. The decision will be announced immediately afterward," he said and stood up, leaving the room in anticipation.

Silence enveloped the room as the judge left. Zeyn stood, pensively looking into the distance. Voych approached him. "Wait here, I need to talk to the judge," whispered the lawyer and left, leaving Zeyn alone with his thoughts and the uncertainty that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Tension hung in the air of the courtroom; murmurs, like gusts of wind, floated through the air, causing anxiety and unrest among those present. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and the judge, showing signs of fatigue but with a determined expression, took his place at the bench. Voych followed him, catching Zeyn's gaze and nodding to him, as if to confirm that everything was going according to plan. This gesture, though brief, felt like a huge relief to Zeyn, although internally he still felt the weight of his situation. The judge, with a grave demeanor, took his seat. He picked up the gavel and forcefully struck the table, as if this gesture was putting a period on the fate of the person awaiting his verdict.

"Your petition for bail is granted, Mr. Voych," declared the judge, lending his words a final and decisive tone.

On his way back to the cell, Zeyn felt the tension slightly ease — as if the chances for a brighter future had become somewhat clearer. But this sensation was fleeting — the reality was that a long and thorny path still awaited him. He could not shake off the weight of past mistakes that still hung over him.

"Zeyn," the lawyer addressed him, his voice sounding sharp against the ominous silence of the prison cell. The walls, as if compressing the air around them, created a feeling of oppressive enclosure. "Baron is extremely keen to know why you were in that laboratory and when you can deliver what he is looking for. This could be a pivotal moment in your case."

Zeyn, with a deep sigh, felt anxiety fill him. "I understand how important this is," he whispered barely audibly, gazing at the lawyer. "My acquaintance Henry knows more about this than I do. He was there with me and knows why we went there."

Baron's lawyer listened intently to every word Zeyn said. His gaze was penetrating and cold, as if he could see right through him. At that moment, in the grim cell, time seemed to slow down, creating an atmosphere of tense anticipation.

"Can you convince him to come with us and tell everything?" asked the lawyer, his tone remaining impassive and businesslike. Zeyn felt the weight of this decision on his shoulders. He paused for a moment, then nodded as if accepting a challenge from fate. "Alright, I'll try to convince Henry. I'll call him today."

"Wait for the call," Voych said, with a slight smile, before leaving. These words revolved in Zeyn's mind, filling him with hopes and anxieties. He didn't know what to expect from this call, but he was sure it would be important.

***

At dawn the next day, a phone call echoed through the prison corridor. The guard picked up the receiver and briefly conversed with someone, then headed to Zeyn's cell. "You have a call," he said, passing the phone through the bars. Zeyn quickly took the receiver, and a firm male voice came through immediately. The conversation was short, but Zeyn understood right away: his future depended on these words and decisions.

"Here's your phone," Zeyn said, handing back the device to the guard, his voice calm but his gaze covertly assessing. "And goodbye," he added, breaking off the gaze and heading towards the exit from the cell, each of his steps radiating haste and determination. Zeyn quickly left the prison cell, leaving behind the guard, whose cold eyes followed him to the last moment.

Stepping out of the police station, Zeyn suddenly felt the air outside seem fresher and cleaner compared to the oppressive atmosphere of the prison. However, a sense of uncertainty and doubt still loomed in his mind. At the car, he saw Henry, who was waiting for him impatiently, his gaze tensely sparkling in the twilight of the headlights.

"Henry, how are you?" Zeyn asked first thing, barely getting into the car in the morning.

Henry looked at him, his face expressing concern. "Zeyn, the main thing is to tell Baron the whole truth. This is our chance."

The car smoothly pulled away, merging into the morning flow of city traffic. The driver, looking at Zeyn in the rearview mirror, stated impassively. "Baron doesn't like to wait."

Morning light filtered through the car windows, illuminating the passengers' faces. Zeyn, lost in his thoughts, felt the tension before the upcoming meeting with Baron.

***

In the morning, as the sun was rising above the horizon, Henry and Zeyn enjoyed their journey along a road surrounded by greenery and gardens. The sun's rays played on the leaves of the trees, creating a spectacle of light and shadow.

"Look, Zeyn," Henry exclaimed in admiration, pointing to the surrounding landscape. "This is the valley of a thousand roses! Does Baron really own all this?"

Zeyn nodded, smiling. "Yes, all of this is his. He treasures these lands greatly. The story of his attachment to this place is quite interesting, but we'll talk about it later."

The car slowly moved along the winding road, circling ancient oaks. A gentle breeze caressed the foliage, as if carrying secrets and memories of times past.

They reached a ranch situated on a small hill. The air there was somehow particularly rich, and time seemed to flow more slowly.

Reaching the gates of the ranch, Zeyn and Henry paused for a moment. Zeyn pointed to a fountain at the entrance.

"Look, the water in this fountain is always full," he said.

Henry looked at the fountain in surprise. "Is it some special fountain?"

"Not sure," Zeyn replied. "They say it's Baron's tears turned into water."

Henry gazed at the fountain thoughtfully, pondering the meaning of Zeyn's words.

"Tears? What was he crying about?" asked Henry, as if sensing the proximity of some indelible tragedy.

"There are stories that are better left in the past," Henry looked at Zeyn, his gaze full of seriousness.

"You're right, Zeyn. Some things are better not known," Henry glanced at the fountain.

"Nevertheless," Henry smiled, "the most important thing is that we are here, amidst this beauty. From time to time, in everyone's life, there comes a moment to stop and just... feel."

Reaching the ranch's gates, Zeyn and Henry paused as the automatic gates slowly began to open. The car gently drove along the well-kept dirt road.

"Look, there's a church," Zeyn pointed to a small white building in the distance, surrounded by several wooden gazebos.

Henry observed the landscape with interest. "It's so quiet and peaceful here," he noted.

When the car stopped at the main building, two people in light clothes approached them. With respect, they bowed and opened the car doors.

"Welcome, gentlemen," one of them said, gesturing towards the building's entrance.

In the foyer of Baron's luxurious mansion, crystal chandeliers softly illuminated the marble floor. Paintings and reliefs on the walls added to the sense of luxury.

Zeyn and Henry heard children's laughter, which filled the space with warmth and life. Soon, two men in business suits, looking serious and formal, entered the room. "Please follow us," one of them said.

They ascended a massive wooden staircase and walked down a corridor, where the scents of freshly cut roses lingered in the air. Huge doors opened before them, leading into a spacious hall. In the center of the room were chairs and armchairs arranged in a semicircle.

In the small hall where they were met, the atmosphere was tense and quiet. Two men in suits offered them seats. Zeyn and Henry sat down, feeling the guards' gazes on them. Suddenly, one of the guards' radios crackled excitedly, and he quickly exited the room.

An awkward silence ensued, during which they exchanged glances, trying to understand the situation. A minute later, the door quietly opened, and the guard asked them to follow him.

They entered another room where a fireplace smoldered in the corner, creating a pleasant light and warmth. Shadows from the flames played on the walls, giving the room a mysterious appearance. A light scent of smoke filled the air.

"Come here," a husky voice called from the depths of the room after a moment.

Advancing into the room, their gazes were involuntarily drawn to the fireplace crackling to their right. From this source of fire, the silhouette of a person sitting in a wheelchair, back turned to them, was faintly illuminated. The air was filled with a complex bouquet of aromas: a mix of cigar smoke and aged brandy. In this mystical atmosphere, Baron—a man with milk-white mustaches and eyes burning like living flames—took his place in the armchair.

By the fireplace, on a soft and warm fur, lay a mighty dog. Its eyes, illuminated by the fire, sparkled as they approached. Its fearsome snarl made them freeze in place, but then, the quiet voice of the Baron addressed the animal: "My friend, all is well."

As if reacting to the familiar voice of its owner, the dog calmed down while Baron gently stroked its fur.

In the dimly lit room, where the crackling of the fireplace created a cozy atmosphere, Baron looked at Zeyn and asked, "So, did you bring me something today, or perhaps you want to tell me where you've been and what you've done?"

"We, my friend and I…" Zeyn tried to gather his thoughts.

"With which friend? Did you both bring me something?" Baron frowned.

"No," Zeyn hastily replied.

"We, my friend and I…" trying to start his story again, said Zeyn.

"Did I ask you to tell me something? What exactly did I ask you?" Baron interrupted him with displeasure in his voice.

"You asked what we brought you," despite his uncertainty, Zeyn replied.

"That's right. So, what did you bring me?" Baron clarified.

"We, my friend and I…" Zeyn tried to start again.

"Let me tell you a little story. I would prefer you not start with lies, and perhaps we can develop some trust between us, and you'll learn something interesting," Baron said this time, sighing and calming his voice to a gentle, pacifying tone. "Sit down on this couch."

"Honesty for honesty," Baron began, his eyes momentarily flipping through the pages of his interlocutors' souls. "I'll tell you a story not everyone knows."

"Have you ever wondered," Baron continued, Henry leaned forward as if his attention was chained to Baron's words, "that life is not just a series of random events? That everything happening around could be planned, organized, calculated?"

Zeyn nodded, his face an open book, ready to receive every word.

Raising his voice slightly to draw attention to his words, Baron began his story. "Among the numerous stories my grandfather told me, there was one..." Zeyn, catching the interest of this narrative, inquired, "Which one?"

Baron smiled, reminiscing. "It revolved around our family. According to the legends, my ancestors were wanderers, without a permanent home. They roamed the world, discovering new lands and exploring uncharted places."

"My grandfather was a remarkable man," Baron began, "he often told me various stories, sometimes incredible, although... who knows? Maybe they were true." Baron smiled, "There was one story I would fall asleep to as a baby, even though I never heard the end. It's about my family. Long ago, my ancestors were wanderers, roamed foreign lands, crossed seas and oceans, walking thousands of miles."

"Your family never had a home?" Zeyn asked.

"No," Baron replied, "they were called 'gypsies,' though they proudly called themselves 'Romale'—which means 'free people.' Yes, they were free. But freedom came at a great cost. They were rarely welcomed anywhere; more often, they were driven away, blamed for all the local crimes."

"Yes, I've heard many considered them responsible for all bad things?" Zeyn interjected.

"Exactly," Baron continued, "they were called cannibals, vampires, accused of kidnapping children and worshipping evil spirits."

"People feared us, attributing terrible deeds," Baron went on. "But a time came when my ancestors found a secluded paradise on earth—a river teeming with fish, forests filled with game, and picturesque fields. But when the rains were scarce, and life became hard, our people faced the unknown. Mysterious disappearances began occurring in their camp.

"My grandfather was well-known in his time. He had black, raven-like hair, and he always looked straight ahead confidently. Women found him attractive. One night, under a bright moon, gunshots rang out. A wolf suddenly appeared in their camp, took something in its jaws, and vanished into the darkness. My grandfather and his friends were determined to find out what happened. They chased after the wolf, which disappeared into the forest.

Delving into the forest, someone in the group pointed ahead, and they saw a pack of wolves. The wolves seemed unaware of them due to the wind's direction. They proceeded quietly, trying not to make a sound, but they got too close, and their noise gave them away. The wolves fled, and shots followed them.

My grandfather accidentally fell into an underground cave while lost in thought. Sliding down a rocky slope, he suddenly stopped. After the fall, he discovered he had injured his leg but could stand on it. His shouts echoed through the cave. Darkness reigned, barely lit by starlight and the moon.

Venturing further into the dark cave, my grandfather noticed a faint green glow. It seemed strange and unreal. Approaching, he saw the light grow brighter. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, my grandfather reached for the source and felt cold stones under his fingers. When he picked them up, they glowed as brightly as if they were unusual treasures. The stones emitted sounds reminiscent of the sea's noise and felt warm and alive in his hand.

After wrapping his finds in an old cloth, my grandfather began searching for an exit from his underground refuge. He emerged where he had fallen into the cave. But upon exiting, he realized the chances of finding his friends or even the wild wolves were minimal. He decided to return home.

When my grandfather heard rustling in the bushes, he grew alarmed. Taking his rifle, he went to check what it was. To his surprise, he found an injured wolf cub. Seeing the dead adult wolves nearby and hearing distant shots, he realized the cub was orphaned. My grandfather picked up the cub and brought it home.

At home, tired after the expedition, my grandfather sat down to rest. He placed the wolf cub next to him and put the stone he found in the cave nearby. The next morning, waking up to licks, my grandfather found his wounds had healed. The little wolf was healthy and playful. My grandfather named it Lyra and introduced it to his pets, and the cub quickly found friends.

"People in the camp initially looked askance at this wolf, but over time they got used to it," Baron mused, leaning back in his chair. "After all, when peace returned, everyone went back to their usual business and stopped paying attention to it.

"That man in the painting... is he in the company of a wolf?" Henry, whose eyes were fixed on an old portrait above the fireplace, took a deep breath.

"Yes, that man is my grandfather," Baron smiled, as if harboring a secret, and winked at Henry.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room became tense. Baron turned his eyes to Zeyn. "You, I assume, know about the stones we're talking about, and what equipment you were supposed to give me? Did you tell Henry?"

"What was he supposed to tell me?" Henry asked, feeling bewildered, Zeyn sighed, looking away.

"Probably, Zeyn told you a story about his sick sister who needs money, right?" Baron asked, furrowing his brows.

"She's healthy... I talked to her myself," Henry pondered, recalling the last conversation with his sister.

"These are questions you'll have to resolve yourselves," concluded Baron.

In the dim, tense room, Baron turned to Zeyn

: "Where's my device, Zeyn?"

"In the lab," Zeyn replied curtly, avoiding Baron's gaze.

"So, you've betrayed both your friends and me," Baron said, clenching his fists. He looked at Zeyn distrustfully. "Alright, now you're going to the lab with me and show me where it is."

"How are we going to get in?" Zeyn asked uncertainally.

"That's none of your concern," Baron replied tersely. "What other device in the lab?" Henry seemed to lose his patience.

"I found a device and hid it there, in the lab, while you were talking to Tom," Zeyn sighed, as if gathering his courage.

Baron made a motion as if wanting to stand up, but his wheelchair prevented him from doing so. Instead, he intensified the tension in his gaze, as if wanting to make a decision right here and now. "Alright, we'll deal with this later. Zeyn, you're going with my men. I'll give them instructions now."

Henry, feeling the weight of each word, stared at Baron.

"And you, Henry, will stay with me," Baron continued. "We'll have dinner, and there's much to discuss."

11. Visiting the Baron

Zeyn and Baron's men were already in the minibus, Zeyn's gaze fixed on the fiery hues of the sunset. He seemed to be counting the last minutes of the day as the colors of the sky canvas lost their intensity, giving way to the night shadows.

In the distance, on the street, stood Baron—still as a statue, all in black, his silhouette outlined against the blood-red sky.

"Ready?" Baron asked, peering into the minibus window, his gaze meeting Zeyn's.

"More than ever," Zeyn replied, sitting motionless in his seat, feeling the tension rising within.

The minibus's engine roared like a beast before the hunt. The weight of the task ahead hung in the air, enveloping everyone like a dense fog. Baron's men, preparing for the unknown, braced themselves for seriousness.

"It's time," Baron said, and his words carried the inevitability of the decision. He nodded to the driver. The minibus lurched forward, trying to escape the approaching night.

Left behind, Baron watched the disappearing headlights, then turned to a servant in the shadows: "Go to Henry, tell him to come for dinner. We have much to discuss."

Among the dark shadows on the terrace, the silhouette of a tall man emerged. He walked towards Henry, his steps on the marble sounding ominous. Approaching Henry, he stopped and said, "Baron expects you for dinner." The servant's words were final, sounding like a verdict.

Passing through the curved arches of the house, Henry's soul filled with mixed feelings of anxiety and curiosity. "What does this powerful Baron want from me?"

We stopped at the entrance to the gazebo. It resembled an oasis of comfort amid the gloomy garden, lit by the soft light of lamps scattered chaotically and hanging around. The table in the center was laden with a variety of delicacies. The rising food aromas enticed one to the banquet. The pristine white tablecloth stood out against the carved wooden chairs, as if skillfully crafted by an artisan from a single piece of wood. Henry realized he was at the heart of the intrigues and secrets of the evening.

Henry hesitated, puzzled by Baron's inscrutable gaze. "Why has he invited me? What game is being played here?" questions swirled in his head.

Baron, as if reading his thoughts, smiled and looked at Henry piercingly. "Are you intrigued by why I called you here, aren't you?" Baron spread his arms in a pacifying gesture. "Don't worry. The world is too small not to get to know your friends closer... or your enemies. Make yourself at home, choose what you like. We are alone here, and I have much to discuss with you."

"Please, pass me some red wine," Henry said slowly, surveying the gazebo and trying to hide his wariness.

"Now, that's more like it!" Baron exclaimed playfully.

Henry felt the wine, despite its tartness, fill him with a warm sensation from within. He placed his glass on the table, and his gaze met Baron's. Silence reigned, so profound it seemed even time had paused in anticipation of an answer.

"What do you want from me, Baron?" Henry asked, his voice tinged with distrust, not taking his eyes off Baron.

Baron placed his glass on the table. His fingers intertwined in front of him, as if he was gathering all his energy in that gesture. "I just want to know whose side you're on," he whispered. Henry smiled, his gaze still penetrating. "Honestly, I'm on my own side," he replied, and every word rang clear and distinct. Henry's heart beat faster. A long and interesting evening lay ahead...

"Will you be dining on anything today?" Baron broke the silence. His eyes, like two dark stars, looked piercingly at Henry.

Henry pondered, as if weighing each word before speaking. "I'm not hungry today, but your offer is very generous," he replied, catching Baron's gaze, which became even more intriguing.

Baron, unable to hide his surprise, looked at him. "But it's duck, prepared according to a special recipe of my family. It's worth trying, trust me."

The aroma of the duck was indeed mesmerizing. Henry thought it might be Baron's attempt to gain his trust. "Alright, let's try it," he agreed, taking a fork.

"Interesting. What do you think about dreams, Henry? What do you think their purpose is?" Baron's deep voice cut through the silence.

Henry pondered; his gaze became thoughtful. "Honestly, I haven't paid much attention to it."

Baron concealed a smile. "Are you interested in finding out what I've discovered about dreams?" he inquired.

"Definitely," Henry responded. "So, these architects of myths, the ancient Egyptians, not only engaged in mumm

ification but also built pyramids in belief in the afterlife. However, has anyone wondered why they were so absorbed in studying the boundary between death and sleep?"

Henry's attention was riveted to Baron's words, and his skin tingled.

"The belief was that seeing death in a dream is not just a dream; it's an omen, possibly even a prophecy. Dreams revealed many mysteries and mystical knowledge. How do you explain that? Or here's another question: how can a blind person 'see' in a dream? Or a deaf person 'hear' music?"

Henry leaned forward slightly, his gaze becoming even more insightful and full of interest.

"You're probably aware of the sleep phases—REM and NREM?" he began, and without waiting for a response, continued: "According to my theory, during NREM sleep, our mind creates a kind of tunnels in space. These tunnels are randomly scattered throughout the universe." Baron scratched his chin. "And what happens in the REM phase?"

"Exactly!" Henry exclaimed excitedly. "We can't control that phase. Even modern capsules, which reproduce memories, can't show how we enter these tunnels. We just randomly connect to one of them. Sometimes it might be the body of a bird, and you feel the wind under your wings. Sometimes it's a wild beast, and you're either hunting or becoming the prey. And sometimes it's a human, and you can experience life even in a woman's body."

Henry looked thoughtfully at Baron. "Interesting theory. But what about sleepwalkers? How do they fit into your theory?"

Baron paused for a moment, then, with a slight smile, said, "That's an excellent question, my friend."

"You know, Henry, people who sleepwalk do incredible things," Baron began. "They don't just walk; they can drive cars, visit restaurants, even... well, you know."

Henry raised an eyebrow in interest. "Are you talking about sex?"

"Yes," Baron continued. "And they do all this without remembering the next morning. Some even create works of art or speak languages they don't know when awake."

Henry sat down on a chair, his gaze becoming even more penetrating. "Do you think this is related to the lab research? With those people wandering like ghosts through the corridors?"

"Exactly! This experiment aims to connect to a person's consciousness in sleep. And imagine, if it can be done remotely, we could control people's actions in their sleep in real life, making them do whatever we need without them even suspecting they've done something. We could control anyone, even the president of any country."

Baron looked silently at Henry and sighed deeply. "Do you understand, Henry, how dangerous this is? It's not just power. It's... divine power."

Sitting in the armchair, Baron began. "You know, scientists conduct experiments on memory rewriting. Sometimes complete, turning a person into someone else. Sometimes just partial, to erase painful memories."

Confusion appeared on Henry's face. "Complete rewriting? Is that even possible?"

"In practice— not yet," Baron continued. "But they're trying to create the illusion of rewriting. Imagine, a loved one has died, but by rewriting memories in reality, they would be alive. You see them grow, go to school, celebrate birthdays, get married."

Henry looked up, trying to penetrate the fog of the unknown Baron had laid out before him. "And people really believe in this?"

Noticing the doubt in Henry's eyes, Baron held back a smile. "They have no choice. The image is replaced in real time," he said confidently, as if revealing the secrets of the universe.

At that moment, their gazes intertwined, and Henry felt Baron's words penetrate him, settling in the corners of his consciousness. They were heavy but also enticing, like a strange magic inaccessible to mere mortals.

"So, we all live in a world of illusions, a world that could change at any second?" Henry asked, feeling his thoughts becoming increasingly tangled.

"That's right," Baron confirmed. "And sometimes the most real thing is what we can't see."

Baron became reflective for a moment, as if recalling something, then continued: "Yes, but there's a problem. Scientists are trying to make these virtual memories part of real memory. But so far, unsuccessfully. And those subjected to these experiments... well, their brains literally boil, and they die."

Henry sighed. "Such a price for wanting to change the past... it's frightening to think."

Henry felt Baron's gaze penetrate him, like rays through crystal. "So, Henry, how's the duck? I've already told you quite a bit, and I'd like to hear a revelation from you too."

Baron's words seemed like a trap, gently enveloped in the aroma of duck and the sounds of the late evening. Henry felt it was time to share something significant.

"The duck was exquisite, Baron. A masterpiece of culinary art," he began, taking a moment to ponder. "As for the revelation..." Henry began to panic; he understood that he couldn't simply dismiss Baron with some tale about the nonsense Zeyn had told the police about studying spirits. No, he couldn't tell him everything; he needed to come up with something, to tell some truth so that not everything would be a lie, and he began his story. Baron tilted his head, trying to catch Henry's gaze. "What's wrong? You seem so pensive. What's bothering you?"

Henry clenched his palms into fists, they were becoming increasingly sweaty, and he started to concoct a story on the spot. "It wasn't a decision made because of some spirits or anything like that. I asked Zeyn to hack into Gustos' server. To find evidence that could be used against him."

"Compromising material on Gustos?" Baron smirked. "It seems like lately, everyone needs something on him. He's left his mark everywhere."

"Gustos framed my father. He's in prison now, and I want to get him out by any means necessary. I'm sure my father is innocent," Henry said, his voice sounding decisive, but there was a note of desperation in it.

"And what did you find? What's in those documents?" asked Baron, his eyes now full of interest.

Henry slowed down, as if weighing each word. "Records of experiments with memory, about the ability to change reality. It's... it's what we're talking about right now. I thought it would be a good chance to find something on Gustos and free my father."

12. Luxury mansion

Sitting before the dying embers in the fireplace, the Baron fixed his gaze on the remnants of the flame, in which it seemed the answers to all the mysteries of the world were hidden.

"Here's what happened, my dear Henry," he began slowly, his voice deep and thoughtful. "My grandfather had a loyal friend named Baht. They shared many joys and sorrows of childhood together. And Baht... he loved a girl named Aza. His heart belonged entirely to her.

Henry, intently listening to the story, looked at the Baron, waiting for the continuation.

"Here's what happened that night," the Baron continued, his voice contemplative. "Aza and Baht decided to steal sweet apples. They knew of a place where they could find them—we went there not just once—in the garden of a large mansion behind a high fence, on the outskirts of the city, far from the camp. They sneaked in there, started picking and eating the apples right on the spot. But their fun was soon interrupted. The mansion's guards caught them, and Aza and Baht never returned to the camp. My grandfather searched for them everywhere.

Henry, in the tense silence, slowly raised his eyes to the Baron. In his eyes were many questions.

"So your grandfather went to search for them in that mansion?" Henry cautiously asked.

The Baron slowly nodded, his eyes reflecting sadness.

"Yes, on that dark night, my grandfather went there to look for them..." the Baron's voice was full of hidden sorrow, each word tinged with the unspoken.

As he walked through the dark alleys to the mansion, he remembered the path his friends might have chosen. The Baron carefully circled the building, peering into each window. Suddenly, his gaze was caught by one of the basement windows, where he saw something strange.

"So they became victims of abduction?" Zeyn exclaimed in surprise.

"Shhh," the Baron placed a finger to his lips, calling for silence, "listen further."

Through the window, my grandfather saw two men with shiny metal objects in their hands, resembling knives. They were doing something to a person lying on a table. There was so much blood around that my grandfather's heart pounded in terror, as if its beating could be heard from afar.

"Hello," suddenly came a voice from the shadow next to him. He almost screamed in surprise. Turning around, he saw a woman, her face illuminated by the moonlight, shining like a bright star in the night sky.

"Who are you and what are you doing near the mansion in the middle of the night?" the girl asked sternly, standing in the darkness.

"My name is Asam, I... was just walking here," my grandfather replied, trying to maintain calm, but his voice trembled.

"Walking? I don't believe it," she said sharply, peering into his face with evident distrust. "No one walks here without a reason, especially at night."

"I'm looking for my friends," my grandfather sighed, feeling his excuses sounded weak. "I think they might be in trouble."

"Your friends? The ones who broke into the mansion?" her voice became more severe, her gaze piercing.

"Yes, them," my grandfather confirmed, feeling the tension in the air.

"And who are your friends, and what were they doing here?" Alina asked sharply, staring intently into my grandfather's face.

"They... they came for apples," my grandfather replied, but his voice sounded unconvincing.

"For apples? You think I'll believe such a story?" Alina replied skeptically.

"But they really came just for apples," my grandfather insisted, feeling his words sounded even less convincing.

"Alright, I think I saw them," said Alina, her gaze softening. "If you're really looking for them, I can help you. But remember, if you're lying, I'll immediately call the guards. My name is Alina, I'm the daughter of Doctor Lotos. He works here as a surgeon, and there's nothing in this house but his clinic.

"My father, Doctor Lotos, might have heard something about your friends. Let me take you to him," Alina offered.

"Thank you," my grandfather replied, barely concealing his anxiety. "I hope he can help."

"My father is currently at the stables," Alina pointed out the direction.

"I heard he performs operations," my grandfather mused.

"Yes, and what you saw in the basement window right now is his assistants performing surgeries there," Alina explained.

My grandfather nodded, and they headed to the stable. On the way, my grandfather asked, "Has your father lived here long?"

"Oh, many years. This mansion is our family heritage," Alina answered.

Approaching the stable, Alina turned to an elderly man at the door: "Dad, this gentleman is looking for his friends. You probably remember them? They trespassed into our garden."

"Of course, I remember. That

was unacceptable," said Doctor Lotos, nodding. "What do you want to know?"

"They disappeared after they went here, and they never returned to the camp," my grandfather confidently said.

"My guards, I remember they told me they were released. I don't know anything more," Doctor Lotos sighed.

"Wait!" suddenly exclaimed my grandfather, pointing to a horse being led by Doctor Lotos's assistant. "That horse... it has the mark of our camp on its thigh. That animal belonged to my friend!"

"You are mistaken," Doctor Lotos coldly retorted. "We have many horses, and they could have been bought at any market. Are you accusing me of theft?"

"No, of course, I'm just..." my grandfather began, but his voice sounded embarrassed and uncertain.

"Alina, please, escort our guest. It seems it's time for him to leave," Doctor Lotos sharply said, turning his gaze away from my grandfather.

Leaving the mansion, Alina and Asam passed through the massive oak doors and found themselves on the stone steps leading to a patterned alley. Moonlight softly illuminated their path, and their shadows on the ground created the vision of ghostly figures.

"You know," Asam began, involuntarily looking at Alina's pale face, "I find it hard to believe that my friend's horse could end up here. He valued it greatly."

"I understand your concern," Alina replied, her eyes reflecting sympathy. "If I find out anything about your friend, I will definitely inform you."

"Thank you, Alina. I believe everything will be alright," Asam nodded, feeling his heart beat faster with every glance she gave him.

Mounting his horse, which was calmly waiting nearby, Asam added, "Maybe my friend decided to start a new life. Perhaps he sold the horse to escape his past."

"Be careful, Asam," Alina said softly, her gaze full of unspoken words as she watched him. "There are many mysteries in the world, and not all of them are joyful."

Asam nodded in response, then turned his horse and galloped away, leaving behind the mansion and its secrets. Returning to the camp, he still pondered the future, his friends, the mysterious mansion of Doctor Lotos, and Alina, the enigmatic beauty he had recently encountered. In his imagination, images swirled as he attentively examined the crystal in his hands. He devised a plan: tomorrow, he would take the crystal to a jeweler to have it made into a ring. Asam already envisioned how the ring would be adorned with a dragon figurine wrapping around the stone. He decided to offer part of the crystal as payment for the jeweler's work.

***

The next morning at the mansion, sunlight barely penetrated through the tightly drawn curtains, weakly illuminating the room where Alina stood at the door. She watched her father, whose silhouette was already dissolving in the morning fog enveloping the forest.

"Dad, where are you going so early?" Alina called out to him, anxiety readable in her eyes.

"To the forest, my daughter. I need special herbs for a new potion," her father responded, continuing his journey. His figure became smaller and smaller until it merged with the morning fog.

Alina crossed her arms over her chest, watching the forest into which her father had just disappeared. "Special herbs? But he has servants for such tasks," she thought, feeling an internal squeeze of anxiety and doubt.

Approaching the window, she noticed how her father's silhouette was swallowed by the forest undergrowth. "This isn't the first time he's done this," she whispered to herself, her concern growing. "He often goes into the forest without an apparent reason."

Alina's gaze became determined. "I must find out what's happening there," she decided, clenching her fists tightly. She felt her resolve strengthening.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll follow him," Alina whispered. Her gaze expressed unwavering determination. "I'll unravel this mystery!" Her voice's confidence was clear. Tomorrow, she would start her difficult investigation, full of intent to uncover the secrets hidden in the forest and her father's mysterious life.

In the early morning, as dawn was just breaking in the sky, Alina was already prepared for the day. She went to her father, who was packing a bag with tools and supplies.

"Dad, can I go with you today?" she asked, trying to sound convincing. "I'd like to learn how to find healing herbs."

Her father stopped and looked at her intently, as if trying to understand her real intentions.

"No, daughter," he sighed. "I can't take you with me today. I have important matters to attend to, and I need to move quickly. But another time, definitely."

Alina expected such an answer. She smiled:

"Alright, dad, I understand. Next time," she said.

As soon as her father gal

loped away on his horse, Alina quickly saddled her own and followed him. She felt confident, holding the reins in her hands, trying to maintain distance and remain unnoticed.

As the forest began to fade into the horizon, Alina realized that following her father was not easy. He traveled through the mountains, and every time she nearly lost sight of him, his figure would reappear in the distance, renewing her hopes.

The road led higher into the mountains, becoming steeper and more dangerous. Alina quietly continued her journey, trying not to reveal her presence. After several hours of tailing, her father's movement slowed down. He approached a certain place.

Carefully peering from behind a tree, Alina saw an old cave, familiar to her since childhood, but now there were military personnel nearby. "Why are there military here? What's happening inside the cave?" she thought, feeling her heart pounding wildly.

Alina's heart raced as she observed her father speaking with the military at the cave entrance. His expression was serious and focused. She wondered what could be so important happening at this location. And her father, disappearing into the depths of the cave, vanished into its darkness.

***

Waiting was tense for Alina. The sun slowly sank towards the horizon, and the shadows from the trees grew longer. Finally, her father emerged from the cave, carrying a bag that seemed heavy on his shoulder. "What could be inside?" Alina wondered, watching him from a distance.

With each step, the bag swung slightly, as if something inside was moving. Alina tried to get a better view, but the distance and vegetation obstructed her view.

"He's definitely hiding something," she thought, deciding to uncover the truth of the mystery.

Alina quietly mounted her horse and, keeping a distance, followed her father. He stopped in a clearing where he gathered some rare herbs, then headed back home, not looking back.

Feeling alarmed and suspicious, Alina decided to act. She took a roundabout path to secretly return to the mansion and discover what her father was hiding in that bag.

She approached the stable earlier than him. As soon as she saw her father approaching, she quickly dismounted and walked towards him.

"Dad, were you able to find all the herbs you were looking for?" Alina asked, her gaze intense, trying to understand what was happening.

Her father seemed displeased by her interest in his activities. He tried to divert her attention, but Alina was persistent. "And what's in the bag?" she inquired, pointing to the item in his hands.

Her father hesitated for a moment. "It's roots," he replied, trying to avoid direct eye contact with his daughter.

Alina felt something was amiss. She watched as her father took the bag of herbs into the house, quickly leaving her behind. She followed him but stopped at the threshold of his office. Her father left the herbs at the door but took the bag with him inside.

She tried to see what was inside the room, but the door closed in her face, and she could not discover what he was hiding. Alina realized that the story was becoming more and more strange, and she had to solve this puzzle at any cost.

Returning to her room, Alina continued to think about her father and the mysterious bag he brought from the cave. She wanted to understand what was in the bag and how it was connected to the military at the cave. She felt she was on the verge of something important and decided to figure it out herself.

Alina decided to head to the camp where, according to her information, Asam might live. She asked the locals to find out his whereabouts. The camp was located not far from their home, and Alina was determined to find Asam there. Reaching the camp, she started asking the locals where he lived.

Arriving at Asam's house, she felt a mix of apprehension and determination, knocking on the door.

"Asam, it's me, Alina," she said, trying to sound confident.

The door opened, and Asam appeared on the threshold with a surprised look.

"Alina! What brings you here so early?" he asked, stepping aside to let her in.

"I needed to see you," Alina said, looking seriously into Asam's eyes. "I have an important matter, and we need to discuss it."

Asam nodded and quietly offered her a chair. She sat down, preparing to tell him what was troubling her.

"What happened, Alina?" Asam asked, noticing her tension.

"Today, I followed my father," she began, taking a deep breath.

"Your father? Why?" Asam raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but..." Alina paused, looking him directly in the eyes. "Father supposedly went for herbs in the forest, but he went to some cave. And there were military personnel there. He returned with a bag he didn

't have before, and he didn't want to show what was inside. He took it to his office and locked it."

Asam listened carefully to Alina, weighing her words. "So you think there's something unusual in the bag? We need to find out what it is. It could be related to your friends... I'm not sure, but my father is definitely hiding something."

"We'll try to figure out what he's hiding, but first..." Asam started, smiling. He pulled out a ring with a dragon figure, adorned with a green crystal that mysteriously sparkled. He looked at Alina, observing her reaction.

Asam, this is... — her voice trailed off, marveling at the beauty of the jewelry.

He quietly approached her and tried to fit the ring on her finger. Not getting the size right at first, he finally found the finger it fit perfectly on.

"I don't know what to say... This is a very beautiful thing," Alina whispered, feeling her cheeks blush with warmth.

"You're beautiful too," Asam replied, looking straight into her eyes. "I want you to wear this."

She wanted to refuse, but his sincerity and conviction outweighed her reluctance. Blushing, Alina leaned towards him and kissed him, expressing her gratitude.

"I have a plan, Asam. I can sneak into my father's bedroom while he's asleep and make an imprint of his office key in wax. We could then sneak into his office and find the answers," Alina suggested. "Could you find someone in the market who could quickly make a key from the imprint?"

Asam thought for a moment, then replied, "Yes, I know a locksmith, David. He's good at his job. If the imprint is clear, the key will be ready very quickly."

"Excellent, let's do it," nodded Alina. "But we need to be very careful."

That night, Alina, dressed in black, quietly slipped into her father's bedroom. Holding her breath, she saw the key on the nightstand. Quickly making an imprint of the key on a piece of wax, she silently left the room.

The next morning, they went to David. The locksmith immediately got to work, and a couple of hours later, the new key was ready.

Exchanging smiles, Alina and Asam were ready to continue their risky adventure. Dawn greeted them with its first rays as they entered Alina's father's office, holding the duplicate key.

In the office, filled with the ambiance of antiquity, they were surrounded by shelves of ancient maps and scrolls. Asam looked around in surprise and asked:

"Alina, why does your father need all these items? What is he researching?"

"Actually, I never really took an interest in it," said Alina, flipping through a manuscript. "But there's one oddity I remember. One morning, father left for herbs, and when he returned, he was all dirty and without any herbs. He said he fell off his horse. Since then, he began meeting various people, including military personnel. I always thought it was somehow related to his work..."

As Alina mused aloud, they both began to search the office for anything suspicious—perhaps a bag, backpack, or even a hidden storage. However, their search led nowhere. The office seemed like a labyrinth of secrets, where every detail led them further into the unknown.

Suddenly, time seemed to freeze when the door loudly opened, and Alina's father appeared on the threshold, his face showing displeasure and anger.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded sternly, shifting his gaze from Alina to Asam and back.

Alina and Asam froze, unsure of what to say. At that moment, the father noticed the ring with the stone on his daughter's finger, and his expression grew even darker.

"Where did you get that ring?" he accused.

Alina said anxiously, "It's a gift from Asam..." her eyes filled with fear of her father's outburst of anger.

"Where did you get this stone, Asam?" the father asked, turning to Asam with an accusatory tone.

"I... found it in the forest, when I fell into a cave at the foot of the mountain," Asam replied, trying to keep calm, but his voice faltered under the intense scrutiny of Alina's father.

The atmosphere in the office tensed. "Both of you, leave! And you, Asam, don't show up here again!" the father's voice rang with uncontrollable anger.

As dark clouds gathered over the house, Asam quickly exited the office. Following him, holding back tears, was Alina. Her hair blew in the wind, and she heard her father shouting after her: "Stop, Alina!"

Alina felt her place was beside Asam, and despite her father's shouts, she continued to follow him. As Asam turned around and saw her, he quickly grabbed her hand, and together they rushed to the horses.

"Jump on, quick!" Asam whispered. They both mounted his horse and rode down the forest trail. Soon, a heavy rain began, each drop reminding them of the past they were trying to leave behind.

"Asam, where are we going? To the camp?" Alina asked, trying to hide her fear.

Asam smiled and replied, "Not to the camp. I have a place where we can wait out the rain." He looked up at the dark sky and added, "Trust me, it'll be dry and safe there."

Alina's face showed interest, and she decided to follow Asam. Soon, they arrived at an old cabin that became their shelter from the rain.

Inside the cabin, amidst the sound of rain and thunder, they felt cozy. Asam helped Alina remove her wet clothes, then found dry ones for her in an old chest. He made hot tea, and they settled near the fireplace, wrapped in a warm blanket. The fire's

light created a calm and cozy atmosphere, helping them relax and enjoy the moment.

"Do you think what will happen to us next?" Alina whispered, snuggling closer to Asam.

"Whatever happens, we'll be together. That's what matters most," Asam replied, smiling and looking into the fire.

Sitting in the dimly lit cozy room, illuminated by candles, Alina looked thoughtfully at Asam. "Asam, how did you know about this place? It's so secluded."

"Yes, I helped an old forest warden," Asam replied with a smile. "He taught me a lot. He's in another part of the forest now, and he asked me to look after the house in his absence."

Alina smiled back. "You're always ready to help. Thank you for bringing me here," she said.

"I'll always be there for you, Alina," Asam said softly, gently touching her hand.

Their peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door. When the door opened, Alina's father stood on the threshold, completely drenched, water dripping from his clothes onto the floor. Soldiers, also soaked, stood beside him. The father's face was full of anger and disappointment, his gaze stern.

"Put on your clothes, we're going home!" he shouted loudly, breaking the tranquility of their refuge.

Alina was startled, but her shock quickly turned to indignation. "I won't go!" she exclaimed. "Can't you see we love each other?" Her voice trembled with mixed emotions.

Asam tried to protect Alina, but a soldier pushed him back, striking him with the butt of a gun. He fell to the floor, struggling not to lose consciousness.

Asam lay on the floor, the echo of the rifle butt's impact still ringing in his ears. He felt the cold floor beneath him and tried to focus to see his surroundings, but everything seemed blurry.

"Alina..." he whispered faintly, trying to say her name.

At that moment, Alina was desperately trying to break free from the soldiers' grasp. "Let me go!" she shouted, looking at her father with a mixture of hurt and anger.

"Asam, hold on!" her voice was filled with concern, but it also conveyed confidence. For a moment, in all the chaos, their eyes met, silently promising each other.

***

The sun, hidden behind clouds, was scorchingly bright at noon when Asam suddenly woke up. He was lying on the floor of the forester's house, which was filled with smoke. The soldiers, leaving and taking Alina with them, had set the house on fire.

Asam's wolf miraculously found him in the smoky house, jumped through the window, and began dragging him towards the exit, barking and growling. At first, Asam's ears rang, but then he began to perceive sounds, recalling the terrifying events. His memory flashed: the gaze of Alina's father, the blow of the rifle butt, the figure of his fleeing beloved.

"Lira, thank you for saving me," Asam whispered, trying to get up. He looked around: flames had already engulfed the walls, and the smoke made breathing increasingly difficult.

"Alina..." he whispered softly, feeling his strength fade, and knelt down. Time seemed to slow down, and he saw a column of smoke in the distance towards the camp. Not wasting a second, he headed there, overcoming the pain.

Approaching the site, he saw a horrifying sight: charred houses and ashes. Making his way through the ruins and mounting a horse, he headed to Alina's house. Panic and despair raged in his heart. On the way, he reminisced about the night by the fireplace, the warmth of Alina's embrace.

His breath caught as he arrived at her house, where he was met by a maid with a cold, stern gaze.

"Alina has been taken away, sir," she began, her eyes full of warning and sorrow. "And please, I beg you, do not return here. It's for your own good."

Asam stood, unable to contain the storm within him, feeling each word of the maid pierce his heart.

***

"Yes, Asam was seen around the mansion," said the Baron. "He wandered around the old house in the evening, when the sky was painted with sunset hues. It seemed he was looking for Alina there, like a ghost, hoping to see even her shadow."

Zeyn paused for a moment. "And what happened to him afterward? Was he never seen again?"

"After a while, he disappeared... They say he went in search of Alina, but he was never seen again. As if he vanished into thin air," the Baron said slowly.

"Sometimes love and grief can turn us into mere shadows of who we once were," the Baron mused, pouring himself more wine. "That's the whole story," he

added, glancing at the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"Honestly, Baron, there are moments in the story that I can't understand," Henry said, swirling his glass.

"What exactly are you puzzled about, Henry?" the Baron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For instance, what was Alina's father trying to hide? And what was the special crystal your grandfather found?" Henry clarified.

"Ah, Henry, well done for getting to the crux of it! That's where all the intrigue lies," the Baron replied with a smile.

"But what do you think it could have been?" Henry asked with interest.

"We can only speculate..." Zeyn sighed.

At that moment, the Baron moved closer to the fireplace and took a small box from the mantelpiece. He opened it, revealing a faintly glowing greenish crystal, which instantly filled the room with its shimmering light. "At this point, this crystal has almost lost its power," the Baron began, "but once, it could heal any disease. Yes, even return me to normal life. Now... it's just a beautiful stone. But this stone has a remarkable property — it's like a panacea for all ailments, also called 'quintessence'."

The room fell silent after the Baron's words. He continued his story, creating a mysterious atmosphere with the soft light of the room and shadows that seemed alive.

"There's one curious thing," the Baron began, holding the crystal. "My grandfather, after all those events, returned to the cave he once fell into and found a few more crystals there. He gave one to me," the Baron showed the crystal, "and told me to keep it and show it only to someone I trust as much as myself."

Henry and Zeyn listened attentively, delving deeper into this mysterious story.

"Doctor Lotos, on the other hand, became famous for his 'gift' of healing," the Baron continued with a hint of irony. "He used a similar stone to heal wealthy patients for large sums of money."

"Like my grandfather, he once fell into a cave during a walk in the forest. There, he noticed an object glowing with a greenish light... When he returned home with the crystal he accidentally found, it turned out to have healing properties. He knew his secret must remain unknown. When he saw the ring on his daughter's finger, he was furious," the Baron narrated.

"That was the same ring with the crystal!" Zeyn interjected.

"Correct. He realized Asam possessed a stone identical to the one he used for healing. Lotos understood that Asam was a competitor who could undermine his wealth and influence. And he was ready to do anything to eliminate this threat," the Baron smiled and nodded.

"However, Henry, there are other stones...," the Baron began, slowing down and creating a mysterious atmosphere.

"They say one of these stones can enhance feelings so much that a person starts to see and feel others' emotions. It also improves perception, allowing a person to see and hear more than usual," the Baron explained.

"Really? Did you have such a stone?" Henry was astonished.

"No, I never had such a stone. But there are rumors that Doctor Lotos had a similar stone. They say he used it for his experiments on people," the Baron replied, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.

In the room, decorated with antique rugs and portraits that created a special atmosphere, the Baron looked carefully at the two young men, whose eyes were filled with interest and surprise.

"Why did you tell us this story?" Henry asked, peering into the Baron, trying to understand his intentions.

"Excellent question, Henry!" said the Baron, his eyes twinkling. "You want to learn more about our family, right?"

Henry and Zeyn exchanged glances.

"Have you heard of Doctor Lotos before? Only just now, right?" the Baron asked, adding intrigue to his story.

"Actually, he's Gustos's grandfather," the Baron said with a slight smile, watching the young men's surprise.

"What?!" Henry and Zeyn exclaimed simultaneously, their eyes widening in astonishment. The room fell silent before they turned to the Baron again.

"So, he... it's true... he's that one?" Henry looked at the Baron skeptically, trying to grasp the revelation.

"Yes, it's true," the Baron slowly nodded.

"Incredible," Zeyn murmured, looking at the table as if trying to find answers there.

Henry took a deep breath and momentarily closed his eyes, absorbing the gravity of the situation.

Zeyn, sitting next to him, also felt the tension. He silently shifted his gaze from the Baron to Henry and then back to the Baron, trying to understand how this could be.

"I think Gustos's grandfather passed on to him all the information and crystals related to the research," the Baron said.

"Well, that's something," Henry muttered as if trying to process everything he had heard.

The

Baron's smile was weary, as if he was still digesting the entire story himself.

Henry opened his eyes, looked at Zeyn, then at the Baron, and slowly rose from his chair.

"We understand you, Baron, thank you for your story. Now it's clear how Gustos managed to find a cure for the virus when no one else could, and what's the secret behind his other successes, including memory reproduction capsules," Henry said, trying to put everything together.

"Indeed, thank you. We will act wisely," Zeyn confirmed, echoing Henry's words.

After shaking hands with the Baron, they left his house, filled with secrets and mysteries. Closing the door, they realized that their lives had now changed and much had to be rethought.

13. Search for the chest

The door of the house closed quietly behind them, and Henry and Zeyn found themselves in the dim light of the hallway. The ancient clock on the wall ticked every second, making this moment even more tense.

"What adventures brought you home so late?" Aunt Emma's voice easily sliced through the silence, filled only with the humming of the old clocks.

Henry rubbed his hands as if trying to warm them from a non-existent cold:

"We... uh... were looking for something important..."

Aunt Emma looked at them through her glasses:

"Dinner is ready, sit down at the table and tell me all about it."

Walking into the dining room, they made themselves comfortable. Aunt Emma skillfully served the dishes, and the room was filled with the scent of fresh bread and stewed vegetables.

After a few bites, Henry, trying to sound as casual as possible, began:

"Auntie, do you know anything about Grandpa's trunk? The one he always talked about..."

Aunt Emma slowly put down her fork, and her gaze became thoughtful:

"That old suitcase that belonged to your grandfather?"

Henry nodded, avoiding her penetrating gaze:

"Yes, that one. Yes, exactly."

"Oh," said Aunt Emma, "how could I not know... He always talked about how important it was, but anything more specific— she sighed, "he never said. Either he didn't know how important it was, or he really didn't understand what that trunk was about. He said it could turn the world upside down, something like that... I have no idea what was with it. One thing I can tell you for sure—whatever is in it, even some old junk," Aunt Emma's eyes narrowed, "those are very important items. Your grandfather said nothing should be thrown away, everything could come in handy, even if it seems like just trash.

"We would like to find it," Zeyn chimed in, joining the conversation for the first time.

Aunt Emma interrupted him:

"I strongly advise you not to look for that trunk. Those who tried to find it before have vanished off the face of the Earth. I can't stop you, but be extremely careful. That trunk..." She took a deep breath and continued, "your grandfather said many people were hunting for it.

"Thank you for dinner, Aunt Emma," they said almost in chorus, and with a nod, they stepped out into the dark street.

Outside, it was fresh and quiet, only their steps echoed on the wet pavement. The shadows of the trees wove patterns on the asphalt darker than the night, and only the rare lampposts shed light on their path. Approaching the car, Henry reached for the door.

"Where are we going now?" Zeyn looked at Henry through the half-darkness.

"We're going to Fish, he hopefully will help," Henry replied, starting the engine.

They drove silently along the sleepy streets. They parked in front of Fish's unassuming apartment building.

"Are you sure he'll agree to help us?" Zeyn whispered as they ascended the steps to the second floor.

"If we persuade him properly," Henry also whispered back, his voice firm.

They stopped in front of a door, and Henry rang the bell. A muffled voice from inside asked:

"Who's there?"

"It's us, Henry and Zeyn. We know you're there," Henry quickly replied.

The door creaked and slowly opened, revealing Fish's silhouette in the doorway.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" his tone was reserved, but his gaze was attentive.

Henry handed him a photo of a car's license plate.

"We need to find where this car is. Can you check?"

Fish hesitated, then nodded:

"Alright, I'll try. Give me a couple of days, I'll call you."

***

"A couple of days of tense waiting passed," Henry recalled those moments when every call made their hearts skip a beat, "and finally, the phone came to life with a melody, slicing through the silence.

"Fish," his voice sounded sharp and direct, skipping any preliminaries. "Here's the address. And... be on your guard," Fish added at the end. Without wasting a minute, they headed to the specified location.

The house Fish mentioned stood on the outskirts of the town, as if forgotten by time. The paint on its walls was peeling off like old skin, and the shutters creaked with every gust of wind.

Henry stepped up to the door, the steps creaked under his weight as if warning of danger. He pressed the doorbell, and they both froze, waiting.

The door swung wide open, and a woman appeared in the doorway, her hair playing with silver, and her gaze so sharp it seemed she could read minds.

"Hello!" Henry's voice was respectful and clear. "My name is Henry, and this is my colleague Zeyn. We're looking for a car with these numbers. Has it been seen here?"

The

woman's face remained inscrutable, but her eyes flickered with recognition or perhaps alarm.

The woman took the photo as one does with age—with a special respect for the item and the moment. Her eyes carefully examined the image.

"Ah, of course, I remember this car," her voice trembled as if each word awakened memories. "It was my husband's car; he drove it. It's been a year since it's been gone from me. Tell me, why do you need it?"

Zeyn looked at her with an expression where seriousness was intertwined with worry:

"We are in search of important clues related to an old case," his tone was decisive. "This car could be the key to its solution."

Henry, softly crossing Zeyn, added:

"Actually, my father mentioned he left something valuable for me in that car. The driver... he was a friend of my dad, and I remember how often I saw this car under our windows in childhood. Could you possibly have any photos of the car or your husband it could help us with any information, maybe in a mobile phone?" his voice sounded hopeful, as if he was asking for more than just a photo.

The old lady paused for a moment, as if an invisible debate was going on inside her between the past and the present. "Why would you need them, it's been ages..." it was clear she considered these memories hopelessly outdated.

She went into the depths of the house, and the silence thickened around them while they waited, each heart beating in sync with the second hand of the clock. And then, it seemed an eternity had passed before she returned. In her hands trembled ancient photos, like shards of time chipped off an unseen rock of ages.

"You're lucky," she said, and a shadow of a smile flickered across her face, as brief as a swift sun on the wind. "My husband was an old-school man, absolutely not digital at all... only real photos on film." Her hand, like a leaf in an autumn park, handed them a photo with the image of the car. "There it is! This steel beast!"

Zeyn, focusing on the photo, suddenly stopped on one of the figures: "And who is this person next to the car?"

"That?" the old lady peered into the snapshot. "My nephew," she said uncertainly.

But Henry was already pointing to another corner of the photo:

"No, there, behind the car. See?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, trying to catch details in the shadow of the car:

"Ah, now I see... But I can't remember who that is."

Henry, full of hope, hurried to clarify:

"Can we take this photo with us?"

"Take it, of course," she nodded, handing the snapshot to Henry.

Leaving the threshold of the house, Henry was still peering into the image right on the street, as if expecting the photo to open a new path in their investigation. Zeyn, slightly puzzled by his interest, couldn't resist:

"What's so special about this photo?" His voice conveyed both bewilderment and curiosity.

Henry looked at Zeyn, a light of secret burning in his eyes:

"Remember when we were at the Baron's?"

Zeyn nodded:

"Of course, I remember," he softly confirmed.

"You see," Henry began, as if letting him in on a secret, "then, when you were examining the capsule, the Baron showed me a gadget... called 'PhotoSpacer.' This device—it can read a photo, like a book, and show who was around, even if they didn't make it into the frame."

Zeyn frowned, his brain trying to sort this information:

"Seriously? But is that even possible?"

Henry confidently nodded:

"Absolutely. We just need to return to the Baron, I think he won't refuse the service."

"And his lawyer... Do you have his number to arrange a meeting?" Henry asked, phone already in hand.

Zeyn confirmed with a nod:

"Got it, yes."

Zeyn pulled out his phone and within a couple of minutes informed:

"All set, the Baron agreed to see us today."

Inside the car, there was a quiet tension. City lights flickered past the windows, creating a rhythmic play of light and shadow in the cabin. Henry looked out the window, but his gaze was fixed on his own thoughts.

"What are you busy with?" Zeyn quietly asked, sensing the inner tension of Henry.

Henry slowly turned to him, his face puzzled:

"Thinking..." he began, as if hanging words in the wind, "what the Baron might ask in return. You know, he never acts selflessly."

Zeyn nodded affirmatively, his face illuminated by understanding:

"Right. The price might be high. But we, Henry, have no other way."

"And if he wants to know all the details? Do we reveal everything to him?" Henry spoke as if weighing each

word.

Zeyn paused for a moment, his gaze darkened:

"We only reveal what is necessary. He doesn't need to know more."

Henry sighed, his voice sounded heavy:

"And if he refuses to help?"

Then Zeyn smiled, his smile was laced with cunning:

"If he refuses... Then we have a plan 'B.' We will always find a way."

Baron, with his hands rested on the armrests of his chair, keenly looked at Henry:

"Ah, 'PhotoSpacer'—yes, I remember. You found someone you wish to find?"

Henry nodded, pulling out a photograph from the inner pocket of his jacket:

"Yes. This photo could be the key to unraveling a story that has long troubled us."

The Baron leaned forward, his gaze flickered with curiosity. At the same time, the wolf, sensing the moment's tension, softly growled but its gaze remained calm.

"Interesting," Baron uttered, taking the photo and examining it closely. "And what do you want to find out?"

"We need to identify this person in the distance behind the car," Henry explained, pointing to a figure in the snapshot. "He might be a key witness or even more."

The Baron nodded, his gaze never leaving the photo:

"Hmm... And what are you willing to offer in return for my help?"

Henry and Zeyn exchanged looks. They were prepared for this question, but the moment of truth is always somewhat shocking.

"We can offer..." Henry began, but Zeyn carefully interrupted him:

"We can share information that will also be useful to you, Baron."

The Baron paused for a moment, his wolf stopped wagging its tail and tensed, sensing the dialogue's crucial importance.

"Alright," slowly said the Baron, "I'll help you. But afterward... we'll talk about your part of the deal."

"May I tell you something now, good, so you understand what we are looking for, and maybe, you will help us with this," Henry asked, his gaze impenetrable and serious.

The Baron slowly nodded, settling more comfortably in his chair, and the Wolf, clenching its claws, tensed, sensing the importance of the moment.

"Tell me," Baron said with genuine interest.

"The artifact..." Henry began cautiously, as if the words were precious stones he was laying out in front of the Baron, "it's not just an amulet. It's a riddle vault and a key to ancient mysteries."

"This amulet... it's unusual. At its core—a crystal, whose gleam is more piercing than starlight," he continued, his eyes lighting up as he spoke of the crystal, "and my grandfather, he... he was convinced that the crystal could protect its bearer."

A deep silence filled the room, so profound one could almost hear the dust settle on the ancient books in the massive shelves.

"And do you think your grandfather was not exaggerating?" the Baron asked skeptically, yet his eyes sparked with a fiery curiosity.

"No," Henry categorically replied, "and I am sure that together we can uncover all the secrets of this amulet."

The Baron looked at the Wolf, which now watched him with penetrating attentiveness, as if the animal, like its master, was ready to accept the challenge.

"This is probably one of those artifacts I've told you stories about," Baron said with interest, his eyes shining like two lights in complete darkness, "they are extremely rare and valued for their extraordinary properties. But why do you believe that I specifically can help you find it?"

Henry thoughtfully looked at the Wolf lying at the Baron's feet and answered:

"Your experience... your intuition... your connections… they could be the key to the success of our search. According to rumors, grandpa handed the amulet to his old friend before his death... And this friend, in turn, supposedly passed it on to someone from his lineage. We found a photo of the car the person who had the trunk leading us to the amulet left in. We hope your PhotoSpacer will help us find this person..."

The Baron slowly nodded and, stroking the Wolf's soft mane, softly said:

"I have one condition. If I manage to help you... I want you to share with me all the knowledge about the amulet as soon as it is in your possession. And everything you learn about it must also be known to me."

The Baron's eyes reflected a sincere desire to know more, and his condition sounded not as a demand but as a wise offer that Henry would be foolish to reject.

"Agreed," Henry briefly nodded, understanding that Baron's knowledge could be an invaluable resource in their search.

Zeyn and Henry exchanged glances—their eyes read hope mixed with apprehension. This amulet was the key to their past and future, but without Baron's help, it could remain just a dream.

"Alright," Zeyn said with reluctant assurance, "we agree to your terms."

Baron smiled—a smile full

of mysteries, as was he himself. He stood up, and his silhouette seemed to merge with the room's darkness.

"Then let's begin," he said, and his voice filled the space like music, "follow me."

They entered a laboratory where modernity intertwined with antiquity, creating an aura of mystery and unknown wisdom. The walls, adorned with monitors and screens, reflected a greenish light, playing on their faces. In the center—a table, and on it, the PhotoSpacer, a marvel of technology where magic and chips were blended.

Baron approached the device and, with respect, as to a living being, placed the photograph into a special slot. His fingers barely touched the button, and the room immediately filled with light, and the screens came to life, as if dust-covered stars suddenly decided it was their time to shine.

"Here is our map," Baron softly said, pointing at the screen where the outlines of roads, buildings, entire cities began to delineate among the glowing dots, "fasten your seatbelts, we're embarking on a journey."

"Interesting," Henry exclaimed, not taking his eyes off the screen, as if trying to decipher the secret code hidden in these glowing pixels. "Where they should have been, there's emptiness. Probably their chips are missing or turned off, so they are invisible to our system." "Then let's go another way," decided the Baron, but suddenly his attention was drawn to two rapidly moving points on the map. "Look, these guys were not far from the place you're interested in," he extended his hand towards the screen, pointing at the moving objects. "They were heading in the same direction as our target. If we can find them, they might lead us to our goal."

Zeyn nodded, his face tensed as if he had already envisioned the next steps. "Good idea. But what about identification?"

With a smirk resembling a predator's grimace, the Baron pressed a button. The screen instantly updated, presenting portraits of two strangers. "PhotoSpacer not only monitors but also identifies. Meet our witnesses with full information about them and their addresses."

Henry stared at the portraits as if they were the keys to solving the puzzle. "Thank you, Baron. They might be the last pieces in the puzzle of this story."

Baron leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "A tool is always effective in the right hands. Let's not waste any time."

Baron nodded, "You should hurry. If this person truly wanted to hide, he's probably far away by now."

So, leaving the Baron's laboratory with a new clue and renewed optimism... what's next for us? Zeyn met Henry's gaze as if his eyes might hold more answers than just to this question.

Henry smiled, his eyes mysteriously sparkled. "We have two people who were nearby the one who presumably took the trunk. The person in the photo didn't have a personal chip, so your device couldn't identify him. But the device was able to see who was nearby... Our task, I think, is to use their memories to track down our main target."

"You mean we, or rather I, need to hack their chips to extract data from the day the photo was taken?" Zeyn raised an eyebrow, studying Henry as if checking his sincerity.

"Exactly," Henry confirmed with a sly smile, "apparently, this is routine work for you. You're a real genius at this."

Zeyn paused and looked at Henry. His face was closed off, unreadable with emotions. Without further words, he acknowledged the obvious: Henry was right—the outcome was in his hands, and he had a clear plan of action.

After leaving the Baron with thanks, they set course for the first address.

Their first stop was at Mr. Bead's house, which didn't impress with its appearance. The façade seemed old and neglected. The paint was dull and peeling, windows were hidden behind heavy drapes, and the door had succumbed to the ravages of time. The bustling street faded as Henry and Zeyn approached the threshold.

The woman who opened the door seemed weary and full of suspicion. "What do you want?" she threw at them, eyeing them up and down.

"Hello, we would like to talk to Mr. Bead," Henry began, but his words hung in the air as he felt her fierce gaze, and he seemed to freeze for a moment.

Zeyn quickly joined the conversation, trying to soften the sharpness of the moment: "We mean no trouble, just wanted to ask a few questions, to which he might be able to answer."

But the woman was unmoved: "He's my father, and I take care of him. I won't allow some strangers to bother him with their stupid questions."

Realizing the tightness of their timeframe, Henry decided to take a more direct approach. He took out his wallet, counting the bills before pulling them out. "Here's our offer," he began, "We are willing to generously reward for a few minutes of conversation with your father."

However, the woman remained adamant. "How dare you!" she exploded, "Our honor is not for sale!" Her eyes flared with icy fire as she scolded them, drove them away… and eventually banished them from the house.

"It seems we're at a dead end," Henry whispered quietly as they moved to a safe distance.

"Well, it's time for plan 'B'," Henry stated, realizing that conventional methods were useless here.

Zeyn: "I have an idea. Let's create a diversion." He took out a mini-drone and attached a makeshift smoke grenade made of some plastic and matches to it, and launched it into the air. The drone smoothly glided towards the backyard and targeted a dilapidated structure where garden tools were hidden. With a soft sound, the grenade activated, and the structure was enveloped in smoke.

After some time... inquisitive exclamations were heard: "What the hell happened?!" The woman rushed out of the house, eager to uncover the cause of the incident. Henry and Zeyn did not miss the chance and hastily penetrated the premises.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, the air in the rooms thickened,

as if every inch of space was saturated with the echo of the past. Photographs on the walls silently watched over them, and in the corner of the room stood a gramophone—silent guardian of long-gone days.

They swiftly ran through the rooms and soon found the woman's father, peacefully resting on the bed. From afar, the woman's screams could be heard: "Fire, the shed is burning!"

"Is everything okay here?" Henry whispered, accessing the "Imperium" system belonging to her father.

Zeyn just nodded, frozen in front of the screen. The room was enveloped in a suffocating silence, only the faint hum of their device disrupted the stillness. Zeyn began entering data for the search…

And suddenly, the screen lit up with bright light, momentarily blinding them. And they saw it—the memory recording of Mr. Bead. He walked down the street, among faces that seemed like fleeting shadows to him at the time. But ahead, a woman's silhouette emerged like a lantern in the fog, and beside her—a man on a moped, the key to their investigation.

"We've got what we needed!" Zeyn smiled triumphantly, showing the screen of his device. "The moped's license plate in the frame."

"Now the game has taken on new colors," Henry murmured softly, saving a screenshot.

At that significant moment, the door burst open, and a woman's voice penetrated the space: "Father, we're burning! We need to escape!" Henry and Zeyn momentarily lost the ability to speak. Seeing the uninvited guests, she was outraged: "What insolence! Did you do this? I'll show you, now the police will sort it out!"

It seemed the room suddenly came to life: objects flew towards them, beginning to dodge—cups, pots, and even rags flew at them like a storm decided to manifest itself within these walls.

They rushed outside, and the door closed with a characteristic thud behind them. The cool night air tickled their faces, but the air was also filled with something else—the sharpness of inevitable events. Henry, without slowing down, glanced over his shoulder at Zeyn: "This one on the moped is the one we need, but the moped's plate isn't visible!"

Their steps quieted, they tried to catch their breath after such a tumultuous escape. Henry once again focused on the gadget's screen: "Look, Zeyn. Why do we need the plate? There it is, the answer—right in front of us, the agency's name."

Zeyn squinted, then his gaze flared with realization: "You're not mistaken. This is exactly what we need."

Henry, as if changing the game, suddenly asked — Did you actually set the shed on fire?

Zeyn, widening his eyes in surprise, replied — No, of course not. It was just a smoke bomb, to distract her. There was no fire at all.

Their laughter lightly floated through the air, highlighting every new, astonishing twist in their adventure.

"So, to the agency," Henry concluded their plan for the day.

"And this might be the key to unraveling this entire convoluted story," Zeyn added with hope in his voice.

Henry exhaled heavily, sensing they were getting closer to solving the puzzle, although the journey still promised to be long and full of uncertainties. And they headed towards the next point in their investigation…

As they entered the moped rental agency, the sunset was just ending outside. Orange rays of the setting sun played on the glass of the storefront, and the air was filled with the faint smell of rubber mixed with notes of evening coolness. In the distance, where mopeds were parked, a muted honk of the departing day could be heard.

Henry caught a glimpse of the employee of the year's photo on the wall—smirking, he probably knows and remembers everything—he's the one we need, Henry said. Zeyn pointed at it—Yes, that's him over there.

In the hall, they saw him, slightly grayed but recognizable, standing behind the counter, immersed in his work, unaware of them. Henry suggested—Shall we catch him at the exit? Unexpectedly?

Zeyn nodded in agreement. They retreated outside and hid around the corner, waiting for the agency's door to swing open. And then he came out, holding the moped keys in his hand.

Secretly, without attracting attention, they followed him, step by step, maintaining a cautious distance.

Thus, under the cover of night, they approached the unraveling of the mystery.

Night had descended on the city, the streetlights flickered in the darkness. Listening to the sound of falling droplets, they stood still in front of his house, marking every gesture of his in the silence.

"Why is he hurrying?" Zeyn whispered softly when the worker dashed into his house

and disappeared.

They waited for a moment and, gathering their courage, knocked on his door.

The door flung open, and a middle-aged man with silver hair gleaming in his hair and deeply set eyes appeared before them. His gaze held something searching, yet recognition also flickered in it.

"What do you want?" he began, scanning the two young men. Suddenly, his gaze settled on Henry. "Can it be, you... Henry?" Henry, slightly puzzled, responded:

"Yes, I'm Henry. I apologize... But how did you manage to recognize me?"

The man smiled, his eyes lit up with memories:

"Ah, young man, I once was a friend of your father's, we were like brothers, no less. In him, you... resemble him greatly."

Zeyn, looking at Henry in surprise, asked:

"Did you know about this?"

Henry shook his head:

"No, I had no idea about this. My father usually didn't discuss his past..."

He introduced himself as Alexander and offered them cups of hot drink. Henry sipped from his cup—the taste of the tea was strange: bitter, yet aromatic.

"Your grandfather, you know, was an extraordinary person," Alexander began, stroking his gray hair. "Our friendship strengthened from childhood, we lived through a lot together, experienced many adventures..."

Zeyn, with some suspicion, asked:

"And what happened to him, I honestly don't even know," said Henry.

Alexander looked at Henry—his gaze faltered:

"I was there when your grandfather never returned home..." he spoke quietly, his voice sounding surprisingly calm. "That's how it is when life makes its adjustments without asking..."

A surge of emotion boiled in Henry, as if rising to his throat:

"I knew about his death, but I don't know the details..."

A smile appeared on Alexander's face, but his eyes remained filled with sadness:

"Your grandfather was a master of secrets and a seeker of treasures... And now, I think he has passed the baton to you."

Henry, with a tone of confusion, asked:

"Why haven't I heard of you before?"

Alexander responded with a smirk:

"Your grandfather knew how to keep secrets... No need for thanks, he would be glad knowing that his spirit continues to live in you."

Silence filled the room, laden with unspoken words and memories. Suddenly, with a heavy sigh, Alexander stood up:

"But, let's move on to your matters. What brings you here?"

Henry began narrating their adventure starting from the strange duty as a "Sova" and slowly unraveling the knot of their secrets, unaware of the mysteries he might uncover.

Alexander listened intently, then stood up:

"One moment, I'll be right back," he said and walked into the adjoining room.

He returned, holding a worn chest that stored centuries of dust and secrets. Henry and Zeyn, who stood quietly nearby, exchanged glances—there was amazement and anticipation in them.

"Never thought you'd find this here... Maybe it will show you the path that your grandfather couldn't find," Alexander noted, lifting the lid of the chest. "And perhaps, the doors that were closed to me will open for you."

At that moment, both young men felt they were on the threshold of something mystical, something their predecessors started and was now waiting to be completed by them. Alexander sat back down, crossed his arms over his stomach, and stared at Henry with a look that seemed to see right through him.

Zeyn joined the conversation:

"Fate must have led us here for a reason... Together with you, we might unravel the mysteries that have long tormented Henry's grandfather and you too."

Alexander looked thoughtfully at the chest:

"Life sometimes weaves incomprehensible patterns, which ultimately lead to momentous things. Perhaps you are on such a path..."

Henry nodded, feeling an unknown connection between the times:

"We are ready to follow this path, wherever it may lead us."

He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. As soon as the lid of the chest gave way, silence fell in the room, and it seemed that time itself held its breath in anticipation.

Inside the chest were old photographs, yellowed letters, and some unknown artifacts. His heart sank when he realized: this was a story, lost in the mazes of time, now returned to him.

"There it is," said Henry, his eyes stopping on one of the letters. He carefully extracted it, and the envelope was in his hands.

"What is it?" Zeyn leaned in closer, his eyes also filled with genuine curiosity.

"It's a letter from my grandfather. It talks about some 'final task' he couldn't complete. Some artifact is mentioned," Henry was captivated by the text running across the parchment.

Alexander watched with a smile, his hands resting crossed on his chest.

"It seems the story of your lineage isn't fully written yet. I'm glad the chest fell into the right hands."

"Maybe this 'estate' he spoke of isn't about money after all?" Henry pulled the chest closer to him.

Zeyn raised his eyebrows in surprise, noting a glass vial with an inexplicable liquid inside and an actual eye resting among other antiques. One of the items was exceptionally cold, inexplicably so, making it impossible to hold in one's hands.

"Kind of strange and even frightening, don't you find?"

Henry took the

glass eye and looked at it more closely.

"It's as if... my grandfather's eye... It seems he saw a lot in his lifetime."

"Family secrets—a dark affair, and this eye, perhaps, is the key to one of them," Alexander mused thoughtfully, taking a deep breath. "And who knows, maybe it leads to doors that have been inaccessible to you so far."

Henry carefully placed the eye back and closed the chest, feeling a mysterious aura thickening around.

"Now we have a route. This finding is strange, but undoubtedly important."

Zeyn smiled at Henry and then at Alexander: "It's clear, your story is just beginning..."

Before Henry and Zeyn stood the chest—as if a relic from the depths of ages, its ornaments intertwined into mysterious patterns, forming complex geometric ornaments. Some symbols were embedded into the wood, others were raised, reminiscent of scars on an ancient log. All this magnificence of details seemed only decorative, for at first glance, the chest seemed to hold no value.

Henry gently touched one of the grooves: "See, it's like part of a mosaic or cipher," he said.

"Indeed, it might hint at something... But what exactly could they mean?" Zeyn leaned over the chest, scrutinizing every line.

"Not sure," Henry replied, "but it's definitely more than just decoration. These symbols... they're interconnected. Perhaps, trying to connect them in a certain order might..."

Circling the chest, Henry thoughtfully studied the carving until he stopped at one of the niches. The patterns in it seemed remarkably familiar to him.

Zeyn, intrigued by Henry's concentration, asked, "Find anything?" approaching him.

Henry whispered thoughtfully, "This drawing... it exactly replicates my grandfather's amulet. I remember, he always wore it, even on summer days at the sea..."

"You're right," confirmed Alexander, peering into the pattern.

Henry looked at Zeyn, his eyes shining: "That's it! If the amulet is indeed connected to the chest... then it might be the key to its secrets."

Zeyn nodded, his gaze reflecting deep contemplation: "We need to find that amulet."

Silence filled the room, only interrupted by the monotone ticking of an old clock on the wall.

"Where could it have gone after all these years..." Henry murmured, stroking his chin in thought.

"Grandpa always said he'd take his secrets to the grave..." Zeyn slowly turned his head to Henry, "Maybe it wasn't just words?"

Henry paused for a moment, his gaze lighting up: "You're suggesting we look in the cemetery?"

Zeyn shrugged with a small smile: "It's our most reliable lead. Do you remember where his grave is?"

"In the old family crypt, at the edge of town... That's where our ancestors rest," Henry looked up, as if searching for the answer in his memories.

"Then maybe it's time for us to go there," Zeyn already envisioned the upcoming adventure.

Agreeing with the inevitable, they quickly set off on their journey. "Thank you," they nodded to Alexander, hastened to the place where they might unravel the next part of their story.

As the door slammed shut behind them, leaving a long echo, Alexander sighed deeply and slowly approached the window. Twilight tightly enveloped the glass, and reflections flickered in it, displaying the retreating figures of Henry and Zeyn, consumed by the deepening shadows of the street. "Youth..." he barely whispered, as if in that one word was reflected all human feelings. "Unbridled... fierce..."

The car, abandoned by Henry and Zeyn at the corner of the street, swiftly carried them to the family crypt. The tension of anticipation pulsed in the cabin. Zeyn, delving into his thoughts as if into an ancient book, tried to resurrect every detail, every inscription on the cold walls of the crypt.

"Do you think the amulet is really there?" Henry cast his gaze forward, beyond the windshield, where the road unraveled under the headlights, but his voice trembled with a note of doubt.

Zeyn shifted his gaze to Henry, now illuminated by sparks of determination: "If we believe the old tales of your grandfather and his faithful companion, this crypt is the most suitable place. Mysterious, abandoned, filled with secrets... The perfect hideout for an amulet with such a past."

14. Behind the north wind

Heavy leaden clouds hung over the ancient cemetery, making it look even more neglected and gloomy. The bare branches of the trees, like withered fingers, stretched towards the sky, while the stone angels on the graves seemed to weep, as if reflecting the moisture and fatigue of the day.

"Not the cheeriest place for a walk," Henry said, playing with the keys in his hands.

"It's a cemetery, Henry. Did you expect to find something cheerful here?" Zeyn breathed in the moist air, filled with the scent of eternity.

Henry sadly surveyed the area where his ancestor's crypt stood. "There it is, the grandfather's crypt..."

Zeyn gently touched his hand, as if transferring confidence. "Are you ready, buddy?"

Past the gloomy shadows, which seemed to seep into their souls, leaving a sensation of cold dampness, they moved forward. They reached the crypt's door, and Henry's breathing became noticeably quicker.

Zeyn read the ancient words on the stone portal, carefully pushed the door open, and stepped over the threshold. Henry followed him, feeling the tension in every cell of his body.

"Something bothering you?" Zeyn asked, catching an imperceptible shade of anxiety in Henry's voice.

"All this... the walls, the texts. It feels like they carry some meaning," Henry sighed heavily.

In the light of the flashlight, Zeyn approached the wall and ran his finger over one of the inscriptions. The touch felt repulsive, as if the inscription itself resisted. "Some ancient signs. Do you understand them?"

Henry shook his head, not taking his eyes off the mysterious symbols. "No... But I have a feeling these are not just symbols."

The darkness of the crypt unfolded before Henry and Zeyn, appearing as a labyrinth of forgotten tales. In the heart of the room stood a piano—old, worn, but still majestic. Above it, a mirror glimmered with a live light, as if capturing the sparks of stories gone into eternity.

"Look at this piano, Zeyn. Can you imagine the stories it could tell us?" Henry said, his fingers gliding over the keys. Imperfect notes filled the space, awakening the spirit of a bygone era.

Zeyn fixed his gaze on the mirror hanging on the wall. Looking into it, he seemed to freeze for a moment—the reflection appeared to smile. "See, it seems to have captured thousands of moments... Look, there's even something mockingly joyful in it."

"Do you think mirrors have their own memory?" Henry suddenly asked thoughtfully.

"Maybe? In a place like this, I wouldn't be surprised by anything," Zeyn noted, sensing Henry's contemplation.

Approaching closer, Zeyn continued: "Do you believe we can solve all the mysteries here, Henry?"

Henry took out his mobile phone from his pocket and looked carefully at the camera. "It all starts right now," he murmured, capturing the surrounding environment. "Everything can be doubted, but one thing I'm absolutely sure of—we have to try."

They stood in front of the mirror, peering into its mysterious depths. Henry furrowed his brows, his gaze filled with confusion. "Do you see this, Zeyn?"

"What exactly?" Zeyn gave the mirror a puzzled look in response.

"We're not reflected in it!" Henry stated with a tone of fear.

"How can that be?" Zeyn stared intently into the polished surface, then began to circle the mirror, searching for their missing silhouettes. But aside from the two of them, everything seemed in its place.

"We're facing the unknown..." Henry whispered, feeling goosebumps run over his skin.

"There's something supernatural here," Zeyn exhaled, his heart beating rapidly. He approached the piano, which occupied a central place in the crypt, and ironically smiled: "Let's check if the piano is a ghost too."

He lightly touched the keys, and the sounds resonated surprisingly lively, contrary to the absence of reflections.

"So, not everything is as unreal as it seemed," he noted, his voice carrying a noticeable note of relief.

Henry, standing by the mirror, nodded. "Maybe this is a test. We're invisible to this mirror, yet the surrounding world notices us."

Zeyn, lacking piano playing skills, suddenly felt compelled to press the keys randomly. He sat thoughtfully in front of the instrument, allowing his fingers to wander aimlessly over the keys. This created an unusual music, where random notes merged into a unique melody, full of surprises and chaotic sounds.

Henry circled the mirror, absorbed by the mystery of their invisible reflections.

And then, Zeyn accidentally pressed certain keys—Henry caught a strange moment in the mirror. "Stop! Do that again!" he exclaimed.

At his request, Zeyn pressed the same key again. A figure in the mirror flickered, like a ghost bound to the melody.

"

See?" Henry exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the mirror's surface.

"Strange, all of this. Is there a connection between the piano and the mirror?" Zeyn was puzzled, but his gaze was alight with curiosity.

"I don't know, but let's try again, maybe we can summon it," Henry was ready for decisive action.

Zeyn carefully engaged the keys, and this time, each press was an invitation for the mysterious figure in the mirror. And again, it appeared, clearer, as if wanting to be recognized.

"This place isn't just strange, Henry. It holds deeper secrets," Zeyn remarked, stepping away from the piano.

"All will become clear, sooner or later," Henry replied, not taking his eyes off the mirror, where fear and wonder mixed.

They stood in the center of the hall, drowning in semi-darkness, oppressed by the heavy walls of the crypt and the peeling paint of the walls. Henry, intently staring at his phone's screen, seemed to be searching for answers he couldn't find in the antique decor around.

"What are you hoping to find there, Henry?" Zeyn asked cautiously, softly stepping among the ancient inscriptions, as if afraid to disturb the ancient peace.

"These inscriptions on the wall... I'm trying to translate them through an app, but it's silent before this language," Henry looked at Zeyn, worry evident in his gaze.

Approaching the wall, Zeyn thoughtfully ran his finger along the curved lines of text, as if trying to feel the quiver of the distant past. "Maybe these words are not meant to be read. It's like music—only the heart, not the mind, can understand it."

"Beautifully said, but it doesn't help us right now," Henry muttered, staring at the phone, hoping to find some clues. But the screen was silent, like the silence of the walls of this ancient room.

Zeyn, noticing Henry's agitation, moved closer. "What's troubling you?"

"This language... The internet doesn't know it. It's as if it's been erased from history," Henry sighed, showing the screen to Zeyn.

"Sometimes secrets are too great for the digital world," Zeyn chuckled softly. "Answers sometimes lie within us or wait in the world that surrounds us."

Nodding, Henry turned his gaze back to the mysterious symbols. "Maybe you're right, Zeyn. But where do we look for the key to these mysteries?"

Zeyn, stroking his chin, said thoughtfully: "The path to answers begins with the history of these places..."

Henry, peering into the indecipherable lines, felt the presence of an answer that was so close yet elusive.

"Zeyn, do you have any idea?" Henry's voice was full of hope, almost pleading for help.

A smile played on Zeyn's face as he turned to Henry. "Don't you know Adele? Witty and charming," he winked. "And remember, she's an archaeologist. Maybe she can decipher these signs."

The name "Adele" and the word "archaeologist" resonated in Henry's mind like an announcement at a station, stirring a wave of memories. He paused, trying to piece together the past.

"Invite her on a date. You remember where you last saw each other? Ask her there," Zeyn continued, knowing what was brewing in Henry's mind.

Zeyn turned to Henry, his gaze full of questions. "Should we meet her in 'The Network of Memories'?"

Henry confirmed with a nod, his voice sounding confident: "Yes, let's go there. No time to waste."

They headed to the building whose sign proudly declared "The Social Network of Memories." Inside, after a brief conversation with the administrator, they were given the key to "Espresso"—a virtual reality café where everyone could be enveloped in coziness.

"Here are our portals to the past," Zeyn nodded towards a pair of capsule chairs, promising immersion in the virtual "Espresso." "Are you ready?"

Henry confirmed with a nod, and they sat in anticipation of adventures. The chairs closed around them like nests of comfort and warmth. Moments later, they were transported to a cozy virtual café. Light music and the clinking of dishes blended, recreating an atmosphere of tranquility and peace.

They settled at a table by a virtual window, beyond which stretched streets, animated by flowers and lanterns, appearing as fragments of the past. As soon as they were comfortable, a girl in an elegant waitress uniform approached them.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I get for you?" her voice sounded welcoming, and her smile invited conversation.

"A double coffee with hazelnut, please," Zeyn ordered, but his eyes did not leave the landscape beyond the window, as if he was searching for echoes of a familiar silhouette.

When the waitress returned, two

steaming cups of coffee were already in front of them. Zeyn lifted his, making a gesture to Henry: "To the favor of fate in our challenging task."

"To luck," Henry supported, their cups touched each other, emitting a barely audible, pleasant chime.

Henry, looking away from his cup and delving into deep thought, felt the scent of hazelnut softly envelop the space. "Adele... She must join us. She will unravel this knot of mysteries."

He extracted a smartphone from his virtual jacket pocket, and his fingers quickly scrolled through the screen. "There you go," he confidently said, sending the invitation. "Now we just wait."

The response did not take long. A message from Adele flickered on the screen, promising an imminent meeting. This fact filled them both with a sense of anticipation, and a spark of hope was born deep within.

Henry placed the device on the table, and his gaze sparkled with mischief. "See, things are turning out to be much more intriguing than we thought."

"Undoubtedly," Zeyn caught on, feeling the initial tension give way to a pleasant anticipation.

Adele appeared in the virtual café unexpectedly, like a gentle breeze. Her presence brought an atmosphere of confidence and secret attractiveness. "What are you up to without me?" her voice sounded, soft and musical, but with undertones of determination.

Henry extended his smartphone towards her. Adele accepted it with ease, her fingers gliding over the screen with grace and elegance. As she viewed the photographs, deep concentration reflected on her face, as if she were unraveling ancient mysteries.

"These symbols... 'They're something special'," she said, still immersed in scrutinizing the screen. "Very familiar to me, from previous excavations."

Henry, sensing tension in her voice, softly asked, "What exactly draws your attention? Any questions?"

Adele's gaze briefly shifted to Henry, then returned to the images on the screen: "Where did you get this? This language I know..."

"From the crypt," Henry replied with a hint of astonishment in his voice. "On the walls of my grandfather's crypt. We couldn't understand their meaning."

Adele, as if taken aback by surprise, said, "Impossible... This is from your grandfather's crypt?"

Henry's nod was firm: "Yes, exactly from there. But what could it mean?"

She blinked thoughtfully: "I've only encountered something similar in ancient texts. Recently, structures hidden under the ice in the Arctic for millennia were discovered... They're believed to be Hyperborea— a mysterious, highly advanced civilization. Their knowledge and technology were ahead of their time. They explored the stars, lived in harmony with nature, possessed the secrets of the world. These inscriptions... they might be the key to their knowledge."

"Do you think there's a chance to decipher everything?" Henry looked at Adele with a barely perceptible tremor in his voice.

"Possibly," the corners of Adele's lips played with a smile, "but it will require no small effort."

"You... you've been to the Arctic, haven't you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly towards her.

Adele, taking a deep breath as if preparing to dive into memories: "Yes, with my father. Several times."

"Your father is a professor of some sort?" Henry made an inquisitive gesture with his eyebrows.

Her gaze dimmed for a moment: "Yes, he studies antiquities, but... he's not a professor," Adele thought. God, why did I say that...

"It's important, Adele!" Henry gently touched her hand. "Do you understand ancient inscriptions?"

Nodding, Adele tried to focus on the texts in front of her: "I... I'm an expert in ancient languages. We were looking for the key to deciphering. But how did it end up with your grandfather? That's what I can't stop thinking about."

"Maybe we can solve it together?" Henry slowly said, as if weighing each word.

He turned around, contemplating the reality of the upcoming journey: "Adele, are you willing to help me with these symbols?"

She stared intently at the inscriptions: "I'll try... I'll need to talk to my father. Will you show me the crypt?"

"Of course," Henry confirmed with a nod. "We'll arrange a meeting there."

"What's with you, Henry? You've gone somewhere, brother." Zeyn looked at him with concern as they exited into the hallway.

Henry sighed, as if releasing all the heavy air from within: "It's her, Zeyn... The girl of my dreams."

"What girl?" Zeyn looked at him with perplexity.

"She... she's always been in my dreams... I always wanted to meet her, but it was impossible. And now she's here." Henry almost whispered.

"Well, you see! Hooked on the

beauty." Zeyn winked and playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

Henry made an attempt to dodge his hand, frowning unhappily: "Don't make me laugh..."

***

Arriving home to her father, Adele immediately headed to his desk, usually surrounded by books and documents, with the words, "Look what I found."

Her father, lifting his head from his notes, stared at the photographs spread out before him. "Where did you get this, daughter?" his voice was full of bewilderment.

"New clients showed it to me," she replied nonchalantly, trying to hide her excitement.

"And where did they get such rare specimens?" he inquired, examining every detail.

"They say it's all painted in a grandfather's crypt on a cemetery," Adele shrugged, as if it were unimportant.

The father became serious: "Listen to me carefully, Adele. You must stay close to these people. Meet, find out everything you can. These symbols might be more important than we imagine."

"Oh, dad, you didn't have to tell me that, I know!" Adele laughed, but inside she felt that this could be the beginning of their most important investigation.

Returning to her apartment, Adele, concentrating on flipping through ancient texts, whispered to herself, trying to understand each word. The strangely bright room was filled with the dim light of a desk lamp, scattering the shadows of books on the shelves.

"There it is..." she finally said, as if a magician revealing a great secret.

Soon her fingers, trembling with excitement, dialed Henry's number.

"Henry, you won't believe it, I've deciphered the texts!" Adele's voice was filled with enthusiasm.

"You did?! That's incredible, Adele! What does it say?" Henry's exclamation passed through the phone, reflecting his confusion and joy simultaneously.

"Better come to me. We need to talk about it face to face," Adele already imagined what mysteries still awaited them. "Alright, I'll be there in twenty minutes," Henry was full of determination.

When the phone call ended, the room plunged back into silence. Adele looked at the photographs of the manuscripts, her gaze filled with resolve.

Sometime later, the sound of an approaching car tore through the street's silence. Henry had arrived. Henry paused for a moment, his eyes intently fixed on Adele. "So it's her... For real," he thought.

Gathering their thoughts, they began discussing the ancient inscription and the next steps in their unusual adventure. Adele, with a perceptive glance at the document, thoughtfully said:

"We need to take Jane to the cemetery... I'll feel safer that way."

Henry nodded, not hiding his concern:

"Yes, of course. It's better to have more eyes and ears on such matters."

Adele and Jane, along with Henry, quickly approached the meeting place, feeling the weight of the cool evening air. Ancient tombstones glimmered in the twilight under the pale moonlight, like ancient guardians in eternal vigil.

"Hello," Adele said softly, stopping in front of Zeyn.

Zeyn had already been waiting for everyone at the cemetery...

"Hello, Adele," Zeyn responded with warmth in his voice, which slightly dissipated her anxiety. "What new things did you learn?"

She handed him a notebook with neat notes. Lines, like ciphers, followed each other in orderly rows, leading into the world of mysteries.

"This is an ancient language," Adele began, "a language of magic and spells, and possibly, a key to a portal between worlds."

"What is this?" asked Henry, pointing to strange lines.

Adele looked where his finger touched the paper:

"This is particularly mysterious..." her voice trailed off. "‘Music will play as soon as the north wind blows’... Maybe it's some kind of clue?"

At that moment, a breeze that slipped among the monuments, as if wanting to confirm her guess, and a soft, almost imperceptible sound, reminiscent of a distant melody, was heard in the silence of the cemetery.

They headed towards the crypt's threshold, yet inside, Jane felt a cold shiver of terror. Suddenly, a sound coming from the depths of the crypt elicited a burst of frightened scream from her.

15. A mythical creature

Henry, standing at the entrance of a cozy café, waited for Adele. When their eyes met, a spark seemed to flash between them—something clicked in the air. Henry courteously gave way to her, touching her hand, causing her to blush slightly.

They settled at a table by the window, against the backdrop of a guy playing the guitar. The setting sun bathed the room with its rays, enriching the atmosphere with soft light and a romantic mood.

"So, what I deciphered is very strange... 'To find love, you don't have to be human, love a beast, and he will become human.' It seems like a puzzle as usual," Adele murmured, flipping through her notes.

Henry frowned, his thoughts revolving around Adele's words. "What could this mean? A mythical creature? A heart capable of loving, regardless of who you are?"

Adele, playing with her hair, smiled, her eyes gleaming with delight. "Maybe it means that true love can be found even where you least expect it."

In this quiet café, under the sound of the guitar and in the light of the setting sun, they both understood that today's meeting was more than just discussing an ancient mystery.

"Henry, do you think a person can love another person forever? The world is cruel. People betray," Adele looked at him, her gaze filled with doubts and quiet sadness.

Henry, surprised and slightly concerned, looked at her. "Adele, that's a very pessimistic view. Not everything is as bad as it seems. Yes, there's a lot of betrayal in the world, but there's also a lot of kindness and true loyalty," his voice sounded confident, as if trying to convince himself.

Adele chuckled, but her eyes bore a hint of sorrow. "Henry, it's my defense mechanism..."

Henry took her hand, his touch light and warm. "Listen, constantly expecting betrayal will turn your life into a constant fear. Don't shut yourself off from the world. Yes, there will be pain, but also joy. You can't appreciate light without seeing darkness."

"Do you really believe that?" Adele looked at him with renewed interest.

"I believe in balance. And I believe our life is worth risking for real feelings," Henry looked into her eyes, his gaze deep and sincere. "Yes, love can end, it's not always easy to spend a lifetime with one person, but I believe if you understand the currents of life, you can remain happy together for a long time."

Sitting in the cozy café, Henry and Adele immersed themselves in the mystique, pondering the meaning of the mysterious record. Henry, thoughtfully flipping through her notes, slowly said:

"To find love, you don't necessarily have to be human, love a beast, and he will become human... What could this mean?"

Adele, thoughtfully touching her coffee cup, slowly replied:

"Interesting... I remembered one of the ancient Egyptian legends about the love of a beast and a human. Egyptians believed that beasts could transform into humans and vice versa; they made them sacred from animals."

"Wait, so if that's the case? Is the key something in Egypt?" exclaimed Henry, his eyes lighting up with a new idea.

Adele quickly took out her phone, beginning to search fervently. "I read about a labyrinth said to be near the pyramids in Egypt. There's a legend about a beast and a human and their love, maybe this... They say the beast and the human found eternal love in it? This place is full of traps, but at its center, rumors say, lies a room with the greatest treasures of the pharaohs. Perhaps that's the 'love' being referred to?"

Henry looked at her, his gaze filled with excitement and anticipation for adventure. "So, we're off to Egypt to navigate this labyrinth? To find that room?"

Adele again glanced at her notes, as if bringing each image and legend to life. "Imagine, Henry, a giant labyrinth three hundred by three hundred meters, lost in the sands of time, where walls breathe secrets, and every step can be either revelation or deception." Her voice was full of dreams and mystery, and her eyes reflected the vast desert, full of secrets and mysteries.

Henry rubbed the back of his head, as if trying to smooth out the folds of his thoughts. "Three hundred by three hundred meters... That's huge. And you're saying, inside are thousands of rooms?"

"Yes," Adele nodded, her eyes reflecting the lights of secrets drowned in the past. "One and a half thousand on the surface and as many underground. Imagine how many secrets such a place can hide!"

She sighed, her gaze drifting into the distance. "But this inscription at the entrance... it worries me. 'Is it a warning or maybe a curse? 'Madness or death is what the weak or wicked find here, only the strong and kind find life and imm

ortality here. Many reckless entered this door and did not come out. This is an abyss that only returns the brave in spirit'."

Her determined gaze slid towards Henry. "I think it will be interesting. They write that only the worthy could reach the heart of the labyrinth. But we can handle this, Henry. We must."

Henry, catching her mood, nodded, his eyes sparkling with detached enthusiasm. "Then let's find this labyrinth and uncover its secret. Together."

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked croissants enveloped the air in the cozy café. Henry, sitting opposite Adele, studied her face, trying to penetrate her thoughts, to grasp the depth of her involvement in their joint cause. He had questions about why she was here, and he couldn't shake the hope that perhaps she was here because of him.

"The only problem is money," he said, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped their table.

Adele looked up, her gaze flickering with determination. "I know who can help us. Jane," she said, as if offering a solution to the puzzle.

"Jane!" Henry exclaimed in surprise. "You mean to say Jane can finance our entire expedition to Egypt?" His words were filled with astonishment and disbelief.

Adele smiled, her eyes sparkling with inner light, sparks of inspiration, and confidence. "Exactly. Jane has an amazing blog where she talks about her adventures. Her audience simply adores her and would likely fund our trip," she thoughtfully played with the spoon in her coffee cup. "Of course, we won't tell her everything."

Henry frowned, as if trying to piece together everything he had heard. "A blogger, you say? Interesting... I had no idea she was so into this," his words were contemplative, and now a spark of a new idea shone in his eyes.

"By the way," Henry began, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to break the silence, "I thought of telling her everything about her father. But now, after what you've said, it seems better to postpone it. The trip is more important right now, nothing can change that."

Adele, leaning forward, peered into his face with a discerning gaze. "You're thinking about what happened to her father, right?"

Henry slowly took a sip of coffee, as if trying to wash down his doubts. "Yes. I promised my father a miracle. And if I tell Jane the whole truth, then the trip will go down the drain. And the chances of finding another source of funding are extremely slim."

"It will be alright," Adele reassured him, her voice resonant with confidence. "Jane not only has a blog but also financial support from her mom. She can pay for everything we need for this expedition; I'll talk to her. And, I think, she won't even mind."

Henry put his coffee cup down on the table and smiled, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "In that case, Egypt it is. And let this be our miracle, and the truth about her father... we'll leave that truth for later."

"Well, it seems we've decided everything, we can go," said Henry, as he and Adele crossed the café's threshold. The sunset was just beginning outside, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and purple.

"Adele..." Henry began, but his words stuck in his throat, as if hitting an invisible wall.

Adele gently tilted her head, her eyes shining like stars, conveying a silent message: "Don't be afraid." "Yes, Henry?"

He took a deep breath, gathering strength and confidence within himself. "I wanted to say that… this is the beginning of something… And I can't imagine us together…"

"Let's make this moment unforgettable," Henry whispered softly, leaning towards Adele. Their lips met in a kiss that was full of tenderness and sweetness, seeming to stop time in that moment. Only the light of an already lit lamp, framing their figures, filled this moment with eternity.

After saying goodbye, they couldn't take their eyes off each other. As they walked away in different directions, their gazes remained captivated by that unforgettable evening.

***

The next day, a group of four people gathered at the airport: Henry, Zeyn, Adele, and Jane with her camera. Everyone was excited about the upcoming journey. As the plane took off into the sky, Henry looked around. He felt this was the beginning of a great adventure, and excitement sparkled in his eyes. Adele, sitting next to him, held his hand, and they both looked at the city lights diminishing in their window.

The sun had just begun its journey across the sky when the group took off towards Egypt. Everyone was excited and full of anticipation. Henry frequently exchanged glances with Adele, seeking in them the sensations of the previous day.

In the plane, Jane tirelessly told stories about her travels, focusing

on the exotic places she had visited. Her stories entertained the company, and time flew by unnoticed, as if transporting them to another dimension where time and space merge in anticipation of the unknown adventure.

After a while, the plane announced their approach to their destination. Henry looked out the window at Cairo, which in the light of the setting sun reminded him of gingerbread houses, Adele, sitting next to him, held his hand tightly. "It looks like we're finally here," he noted, catching the excitement in her gaze.

The plane gently touched the runway, and as they exited, the heat and dust immediately enveloped them. People around them spoke in an unfamiliar language, creating a sense of immersion in another world.

Leaving the airport, they seemed slightly disoriented. Suddenly, Adele exclaimed, "Taxi!" She pointed to a car adorned with a bright yellow sign.

They quickly settled inside the taxi, which made its way through the dusty streets of Cairo. Cars honked at each other, creating a chaotic but mesmerizing rhythm of city life. Henry and Adele watched the environment around them with interest — time here seemed to stand still, with camels on the roads and people in traditional dress.

"Here's our hotel," said Henry as the taxi stopped.

After checking into the hotel and resting a bit, Henry and Adele went for a walk in the city. They strolled through narrow streets where every stone was steeped in history, and each turn revealed a new ancient mystery. With every new place they visited, an invisible bond between them strengthened. They laughed, joked, and flirted with each other, drowning in an atmosphere of romance.

Passing by a cozy cafe, Henry suddenly suggested, "Let's go in!"

The sun softly shone on the stone tables at the cafe by the main square. They curiously looked over the local menu, choosing dishes they had not tried before. The sounds of local music surrounded them, and children played by the fountain.

A man with a friendly smile on his face approached their table. "Excuse me for interrupting, but you seem to be newcomers to our city?"

Henry smiled back: "That's right! First time in Cairo."

"Where have you been? Or where are you planning to go?" asked the stranger.

"We haven't been anywhere yet, planning to go to the labyrinth," Henry replied.

"Oh!" exclaimed the stranger, his face lighting up with interest. "Are you aware of the legends about the labyrinth?"

Adele, biting her lip, replied: "Heard something, but not in detail. What can you tell us?"

"Do you know that this place is special?" the stranger began, sitting across from Henry and Adele. His eyes sparkled with a mysterious light.

"This labyrinth isn't just stone corridors," he continued, his voice sounding mysterious. "It's said to be alive. People enter it to discover themselves or test their fate. Especially interesting is the story of young lovers who entered to prove the depth of their feelings. But... they never returned."

Henry and Adele exchanged glances, remembering what they had read earlier. "Yes, we've heard," they said almost simultaneously.

The stranger smirked: "I'd like to tell you what really happened there, if you don't mind. I know this story almost firsthand, so to speak. It happened a long time ago, when there was nothing but sand and a road here, right where we're standing. A young warrior named Ryan was walking down this road. He was one of the few who dared to stand against the monsters known as Ammits.

"Ammits?" Henry asked, his focus sharpening.

"Yes," nodded the stranger. "Terrifying creatures 'Devourers of the Dead,' a monster with the body of a hippopotamus, lion's paws and mane, and the mouth of a crocodile in ancient Egyptian mythology, they attacked villages, destroying everything in their path. But Ryan and his companions managed to defeat them.

"After defeating them, Ryan was returning home along this road, and the roar of war faded in his heart," the stranger continued. "The warrior began to hum a song. A song about a girl he loved and lost to war. It's said that if you listen closely, you can still hear his song now, when the wind whispers through the trees.

The tension in the air grew more palpable, the stranger's words awakening ancient legends, and Henry and Adele felt excitement and curiosity budding in their hearts. The wind suddenly played in the pavilion's pipes, filling the air with melody, and Henry felt chills on his skin. "And what happened next?" he asked, his voice full of anticipation.

Everyone listened, and for a moment, it seemed the ancient melody was indeed playing somewhere close.

"As Ryan approached, his eyes widened in horror and awe," the stranger continued. "Before him unfolded a scene of tense confrontation: a massive black wolf and a majestic white deer. The deer was not just any animal; it was almost mythical. Its antlers curved into the sky like ancient sculptures, and its snowy chest was fluffy as snow on mountain peaks. More astonishingly, it wore an amulet on a gold chain around its neck — the greenish stone flashed and sparkled as if it contained something alive.

"The deer seemed paralyzed, its eyes full of fear and immobile, as if it understood its vulnerability in front of the predator," the stranger's voice grew softer. "The black wolf was aiming specifically for the amulet on

the deer's neck. As if he didn't just want to catch the animal but also take this mysterious stone.

"Ryan, without a second thought, drew his sword and charged at the wolf," the stranger continued, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "The animals clashed in a fierce battle, but thanks to his skill and strength, Ryan defeated the beast, driving it away. The beast, realizing its defeat, disappeared into the desert's mounds.

Henry and Adele held their breath, captivated by the story. At that moment, they were surrounded not just by the cozy cafe atmosphere but by the shadows of long-gone times filled with magic and mysteries.

The deer, recovering from the shock of the battle, slowly approached Ryan. Its movements conveyed gratitude, but suddenly, right next to the warrior, its legs gave out, and it fell to the ground.

In myths of those times, whispers about this deer filled the air. In these lands, it was considered a messenger of the gods or an ominous harbinger of ancient curses. It seemed absurd and impossible to expect a northern deer's appearance in the desert expanses, but occasionally, it seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Those who claimed to have seen it were marked as madmen. Their stories were dismissed as mirages, and thus, legends faded into half-spoken tales, leaving behind guesses and half-forgotten stories.

Some believed that encountering the white deer signified misfortune, while others claimed it brought blessings. But when Ryan, a local warrior, returned to his village leading this mystical creature, he could not have imagined how fundamentally his fate would change.

Ryan slowly carried the deer through the main square, and many townspeople looked at him with suspicion and fear. Whispers and murmurs spread quickly, like the wind, carrying rumors to corners. Many turned away as he passed by.

Reaching his home, Ryan saw his parents at the doorstep. His mother, pale with worry, asked in a concerned voice, "What is this, my son? Why have you brought this creature here?"

Ryan replied, "It's not just any deer, mom. I saved it from a predator in the desert. It was injured, and I couldn't leave it there."

His father, a wise old man with deep wrinkles on his face, looked at the deer and slowly said, "You did the right thing, my son. But we must be careful. The townspeople may not understand your action."

After dinner, Ryan carefully arranged the deer in the barn, laying it on soft hay and gently bandaging its injured leg. Then he returned to the house, where his family eagerly awaited to hear more about his incredible adventures…

The stranger paused for a moment, allowing Adele and Henry to digest what they had heard. Henry, gathering his thoughts, pondered aloud, "Well, that's indeed a remarkable story. And what happened next?"

The stranger's smile widened, a sly twinkle in his eyes. "Ah, but that's just the beginning. Imagine, the next morning Ryan discovers not a deer but a young woman lying on the same hay bed. Her eyes are bright blue, almost like the sky itself, and her gaze is full of gratitude but also a certain danger. The amulet hanging around her neck seemed to be an emerald stone set in gold.

"My name is Liliana," she said, her voice, tinged with vulnerability, contrasted with her appearance. "I am infinitely grateful to you for saving me."

Ryan, shocked by what was happening, helped her stand, holding her hand as she tried to balance on her injured leg, the stranger continued his tale. "How is this possible? I understand you've become human?" he asked, barely believing his eyes. Liliana didn't respond directly, only saying that for now, she felt comfortable being human. Ryan didn't question her further, as he was struck by her beauty.

Adele and Henry's faces reflected deep intrigue. "And what happened next? Did she stay with Ryan?" Henry asked, full of curiosity.

The stranger smiled: "Yes, Liliana stayed in the town, and soon she and Ryan became inseparable. They shared many adventures together, and their love soon became known throughout the town. But that's a story for another time...

"But what I will tell you," the stranger said, his voice imbued with mystery, "is that Liliana's heart held a secret as ancient as the forests of this world. When she sensed danger, she transformed, becoming a creature from legends—a snow-white deer, mysterious and unattainable. But when her heart was at peace, knowing danger was behind, human skin returned to her, transforming her into a vulnerable blonde girl with blue eyes.

Henry and Adele listened, immersed in the magic of the tale, and at that moment, it seemed as if they themselves became part of this enchanting story where the boundaries between myth and reality blurred.

Liliana and Ryan, like two halves of a whole,

perfectly complemented each other. Liliana's shining blonde hair contrasted with Ryan's determined appearance. Together, they loved to wander around the area, laughing and rejoicing in each other's presence. However, the locals viewed Liliana with suspicion, as she was unlike them, and their world had not known such fair-haired beauties before.

Night descended on the town like a black veil, and only the stars in the sky lit the streets with a faint glow. In this mysterious twilight, an unexpected knock sounded on the mayor's residence door.

The mayor, jumping from his chair, swung the door wide open. Before him stood a stranger in a grim cloak, radiating some invisible threat.

"Who are you, and what business brings you here at such an hour?" the mayor asked quickly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"I have come for the white deer," the stranger replied, his eyes sparkling like stars, piercing the mayor with his gaze. "If you do not hand it over to me, my armies are capable of crushing the walls of this town, turning it into ruins, from which I will still take the deer anyway."

At that moment, the air in the room became tense, as before a storm. Sensing the threat, the mayor clenched his fists. Henry and Adele, holding their breath, awaited the continuation of the story, understanding that each next word from the stranger could change the course of events.

The mayor stepped back, as if touching the cold blade of an invisible knife. "The white deer, you say? This mythical beast has transformed, according to rumors, into a woman and is now under the protection of one of our warriors, Ryan."

The stranger, with a thoughtful expression on his face, said, "That interests me little. I give you time to think until morning..." Without waiting for a response, the figure in the cloak vanished into the night darkness like a ghost, leaving the mayor in a state of mixed feelings of confusion and anxiety.

"Mr. Mayor, who is that man?" asked a servant, who had been standing in the shadows all this time, anxiously. "He demands the white deer and threatens us with war."

The mayor, whose eyes darkened with worry for a moment, answered, "This deer, if rumors are to be believed, has transformed into a snow-white girl. She is now under the protection of Ryan, our warlord."

The servant, visibly nervous, swallowed. "But what choice do we have, Mr. Mayor? If he speaks the truth, this army could destroy us."

The mayor thoughtfully looked out the window at the streets, enveloped in the night. "We must trust Ryan. If this girl is indeed the white deer, then she may possess great power. We must find a way to protect our city and possibly use this power for good."

A heavy silence filled the room, charged with anticipation and anxiety. Henry and Adele, listening to the story, felt how the tale the stranger was telling was taking on increasingly real dimensions, with unpredictable events unfolding.

The mayor was not a brave man, and a sly thought flickered in his eyes. "We will not risk the city for one girl," he said, smiling mysteriously and looking straight at the servant. "Let the people decide. Spread the rumor that our city is under threat because of the white deer brought by Ryan. If we hand it over to them, the army will leave."

The servant, understanding the gravity of the moment, nodded, "I'll get to it right away, Mr. Mayor," and dissolved into the dark streets of the city.

The next day, an army already stood at the city gates, its might and numbers unimaginable. The city woke up with a heavy hangover. Whispers about the unknown army, which had already lined up at the gates demanding the white deer, spread from mouth to mouth. The faces of passersby expressed fear, especially when their gazes fell on the house of the warlord Ryan.

By noon, the nervous energy in the city reached its peak. A crowd, like a hurricane whirlwind, surrounded the warlord's house, and, finding Ryan not at home, they carried out Liliana — the snow-white girl into whom the legendary deer had reportedly transformed. Passing through the narrow streets, they went outside the gates and left the girl there alone and in fear.

Dark clouds gathered over the city, obscuring the sun as if even the heavens turned away from her fate. Tears rolled down Liliana's face, and she, crying out in despair, yelled, "Ryan! Where are you?"

Liliana's gaze roamed the city gates, trying to find Ryan. She felt her loneliness grow heavier with every passing second. Unable to bear it, she began to pace back and forth near the huge stone walls, as if searching for some protection in them.

"Ryan! Ryan, where are you?" her voice, initially uncertain, gradually became louder, echoing off the walls, reflecting her despair.

Somewhere in the depths of the city, Ryan heard the news: his beloved had been taken outside the city. His heart clenched with horror and determination.

Liliana, pausing for a moment, heard a rustle. It was Ryan, making his way through the crowd, through the looks, he opened the window. And at that moment, when their gazes met, both understood: their fates were now forever intertwined. No crowd, no mayor, no army could separate them.

Ryan, looking out the window and seeing riders chasing after Liliana, cried out in horror, "Run, Liliana! To the labyrinth! I'm coming to you!"

Liliana, hearing his voice, ran with all her might towards the labyrinth. Ryan jumped off the window rope, mounted a horse, and rushed to meet her. He planned to circle the labyrinth and meet her at another entrance.

Reaching the entrance to the labyrinth, Liliana stopped, waiting for Ryan, but heard his voice: "Go in! Quickly! I'll be on the other side!" Liliana's heart froze when she discovered her amulet was

lost — it was the key home. Perhaps it was stolen in the commotion when she was driven out of the town. Liliana felt the last sparks of hope extinguish in her soul, replaced by cold despair.

At this point, the stranger paused his story and looked interestedly at Henry and Adele. "Do you know anything about the 'Bassarat' amulet?" he inquired.

Henry and Adele's gazes met, both feeling an inexplicable confusion. "Why is he asking us this? Does he know something about us? Or perhaps, does he know we have the amulet?" thoughts raced through their heads.

"No, haven't heard of it," Henry and Adele responded almost simultaneously, though internally both felt that this information somehow changed the atmosphere around them. Henry even unconsciously touched his pocket, checking if he had lost the amulet. However, his attention quickly returned to the stranger, who was already preparing to continue his mystical story.

Liliana and Ryan entered the labyrinth from opposite sides, like two wanderers lost in the abyss of time. The labyrinth corridors intertwined mysteriously, creating zigzag paths filled with puzzles and traps. They called to each other, but their voices were lost in the darkness, like drops of water in the ocean. And after them, also entered a man in dark clothes and his warriors.

" Liliana! Where are you?" Ryan yelled, his voice echoing off the cold walls and returning to him as an elusive echo, filled with longing and despair.

On the other side, Liliana whispered softly, "Ryan, I'm here... Find me..." But her words were consumed by darkness, as if the darkness itself was a living being, unwilling their reunion.

The stranger, concluding his tale, said, neither Liliana, Ryan, nor the warriors sent after them ever returned. Some claim they are still wandering in that labyrinth, forever seeking each other.

Sometimes, someone claims to have seen their shadows through the half-ruined walls of the labyrinth. And who knows, maybe they found their happiness there, in the mysterious passages of the labyrinth, and simply decided to stay...

A mysterious atmosphere lingered in the cafe. The stranger was already standing at the door, his silhouette outlined in the half-light, as if hesitating before leaving. He glanced at Henry, and something elusive flashed in his eyes, an echo of ancient wisdom or a distant memory.

"Well, I must go," he said, pausing as if his words held deep meaning. "If you encounter difficulties, trust the shining green sign."

"What did you say...?" Henry began, trying to decipher the stranger's mysterious words. But before he could finish, the door softly closed behind the departing man. Henry sat there, his gaze lost in bewilderment.

Adele, sitting across from him, leaned forward, as if trying to capture every detail of this puzzling encounter. "Say it again, what did he say?" she asked, her eyes seeking an answer in Henry's face.

Henry slowly lifted his head, his face illuminated by the weak reflection of the setting sun. "To trust the shining sign," he repeated, as if led by the echoes of the mysterious meeting. His voice sounded thoughtful, as if he was navigating through a fog of memories.

Adele sighed, sensing how fleeting this moment was. "Well, tomorrow is going to be a tough day," she said, standing up and slowly stretching her tired muscles. "We should go, we have to get up early tomorrow."

Together, they stepped out onto the street, where the evening chill wrapped around them, reminding them of the day's end and that some mysteries remain unsolved, waiting for their moment in the future.

A quiet night settled over the town. The moon's shadow elegantly streamed across the cobblestone alleys as Adele and Henry, headed home. The story told by the stranger had enchanted them, and now every rustle, every movement of a shadow seemed part of that mysterious legend.

"Imagine if all this were true..." Henry mused thoughtfully, seeing the moon's reflection in a pond.

"Then our world is much more magical than we thought..." Adele whispered, leaning slightly towards him.

They arrived at their hotel — an old building with lace grilles on the windows. Passing through the gates, both felt a bit uneasy. The legend had altered their perception of the surrounding world, making it more mysterious and unpredictable.

Not wanting to disturb Zein and Jane, they decided to keep the story to themselves. Perhaps it was just a fabrication, or perhaps a true legend that warranted further exploration later.

The warm lamp light greeted them in the bedroom. Adele and Henry settled into their beds, drifting into a world of dreams where legends come to life, and reality transforms into legend, intertwined in a single stream of dreamscapes.

16. The Lost Labyrinth

The next morning, feeling the air filled with the dense scent of sand and history, everyone moved towards their destination. Their guide, a man with sun-tanned skin and insightful eyes, confidently walked ahead on the path.

"I heard there's a legend about two lovers," Henry began, trying to break the tense silence. "It's said their souls still wander in this labyrinth, sought by their eternal love for each other. Is it true?"

The guide smiled, slowing his pace. "Ah, that old story. Many believe it to be true. But I've been through the labyrinth hundreds of times and saw nothing of the sort. It's just a myth, created to attract tourists and make this place even more mysterious."

"So, we shouldn't worry about encountering a pair of lover ghosts?" Adele asked with a smirk.

The guide laughed. "If you do encounter any ghosts, they'll likely be other tourist groups. But don't worry, I'm here to make sure you safely return from the labyrinth."

They all laughed, and their fears dissipated...

As the sun reached its zenith, enveloping their group in a golden glow, they stood before the labyrinth's archway — a majestic structure carved from stone. Ancient symbols and signs, engraved above the entrance, seemed to whisper the riddles of time.

"Hey, what does this say?" Zein asked, examining each detail of the arch. The tension in his voice didn't escape their notice.

The guide stopped and peered at the symbols. "It's a warning," he began with a collected expression. "Madness or death awaits those who are weak or corrupt. Only the strong and kind will find here a new life, or perhaps even immortality. Many have entered here, driven by scientific interest or mere curiosity, but not all have returned, but don't worry they all just didn't have guides!" the Guide joked.

Adele touched Henry's hand, her eyes reflecting a spark of worry. "So, the risks are real," she whispered, as if confirming her worst fears aloud.

The guide nodded, leaving room for doubt. "It's just tales," he replied, though his voice didn't sound convinced.

Zein sarcastically surveyed the entrance to the labyrinth. "Well, this is exactly where I always dreamed of spending my weekends," his words sounded like a grim joke.

The group exchanged glances, feeling the shadows of uncertainty and possible dangers thicken around them. Responsibility and risk became an integral part of their further journey.

Jane smirked. "You always manage to lift the mood, even standing at the threshold of potential danger," she commented.

Zein mockingly frowned. "Right, I suggest we write our wills right now and pass them to our dear guide. Just in case," his eyes sparkled with playful light.

Laughter defused the tension, and they sat down next to the entrance for a short break.

Robert, as the guide was named, stood up and looked at the group. "Anyone not ready to go further can turn back. "But I guarantee, those who stay with me will be safe," he said confidently.

The group nodded in agreement.

As the group delved deeper into the labyrinth, the guide began to tell legends. The walls absorbed every rustle. The cold stone under their feet reflected their steps, creating a slight echo that seemed endless.

Zein's flashlight slowly lifted, as if awakening sleeping shadows around them. "It's so quiet here... like in another dimension," he whispered, looking around.

Adele, following him, nodded. "It's like a dream. I'm already expecting to see walking mummies or hear their voices from the tombs," she added, filling the atmosphere with light playfulness.

Henry was already extending the rope, prepared for such cases. "Look, a hook on the wall, let's stop for a minute, Adele. We're not the first ones here," he said, tying the rope. After finishing, he added, "If we lose our way, this should help us get back."

As they fussed with the rope, turning back to Zein and Jane, Henry suddenly realized their absence. His voice sounded tense: "By the way, where's our guide? And Zein and Jane?" the question echoed off the cold labyrinth walls.

Adele, concerned, supported him: "Yes, they were just here a moment ago... How could they have disappeared so quickly?"

Both of them looked around, trying to understand what happened. Everything seemed so strange and unbelievable.

Adele and Henry exclaimed in unison: "Zein! Jane! Respond!" But their voices were lost in the deep silence of the labyrinth.

Henry, gathering his thoughts, turned to Adele: "We must go on. What do you think, where could they have gone – right or left?"

Adele pondered, weighing the options: "Maybe they went right... Though, who knows, maybe left..." Her voice faded on the last

word, filled with doubts and uncertainty.

"Let's go right," Henry suggested uncertainly. "The main thing is that we stick together," he added, trying to infuse his voice with confidence and boost Adele's spirits.

And they, holding onto each other tightly, moved further along the winding corridors of the labyrinth, each step enveloped in mystery and uncertainty.

At that moment, Adele, always calm and balanced, showed signs of confusion. "What to do?" the panic notes sounded in her voice.

Henry tried to remain composed. "Let's not panic. We have the thread, we can always come back."

"Oh, right," Adele caught on, as if remembering just now.

"Now we need to think where they could have gone, let's go down this passage," Henry said slowly, trying to imagine where their missing companions could have headed.

Suddenly, he stopped, feeling a slight vibration in his backpack.

"What happened?" Adele asked, slowing her pace.

"Wait, something's happening with my amulet," Henry said slowly, stopping for a moment. From his jeans pocket, he pulled out a golden amulet with a stone that began emitting an unearthly blue-green light. Inside the stone, green dots danced, creating the effect of a mysterious miniature universe.

Suddenly, Henry remembered the stranger's words from the cafe — about the shining sign. His heart pounded with new hope. He hurriedly pulled out the amulet, which faintly glowed in his hand. "Maybe this is it, our chance," he muttered, clutching the amulet tighter.

They tried to understand what the amulet was trying to tell them, as it now seemed to be the key to something unknown. Henry began to turn around, and the dots inside the stone, like stars in miniature hourglasses, shifted their position, gathering in one part then scattering in different directions.

"It's pointing us to something, isn't it?" Henry speculated thoughtfully, trying to decipher the internal code of the darting fireflies in the stone.

"Maybe it's a guide, or a compass? "It might show us the way to the guide," Adele considered the possibilities.

"In any case, it's our only clue. Stay close," Henry said.

They continued their journey deeper into the labyrinth, feeling that every step took them further away from the daylight at the labyrinth's entrance.

Adele, holding onto Henry's hand, whispered, "Everything will be alright. We're together, and we have this... compass. It won't let us down," she comforted herself with these words.

Moving forward, they realized they had no choice but to trust the mysterious amulet. With each step, the labyrinth corridors widened, and the walls revealed grand murals worthy of the world's greatest artists. These paintings were deeply saturated with colors and remained extraordinarily vivid even after thousands of years.

"Look at this!" Adele whispered, pointing to the image of giant mountains at whose base ships were setting sails... and taking off into the sky like sea birds. Around these flying vessels, people maneuvered devices resembling hang gliders but enhanced to the level of technologies only dreamed of.

"This must be Hyperborea! The legendary civilization mentioned in myths. They possessed technology unavailable even to us. People there were free, flew among clouds, and conquered mountain peaks," Adele said with evident excitement.

Henry, looking at the images, softly added, "It could be a reflection of a perfect world that once existed. A world where the boundaries between earth and sky were erased, and humanity lived in harmony with nature."

They continued their journey…

The vast halls they discovered further were so majestic that their high ceilings seemed like mountain slopes. Here and there, in these halls, stood statues of great warriors and sages of Hyperborea, like guardians watching over every step they took.

They passed a few more corridors, and the walls began to close in again, ceilings becoming lower, and the space felt increasingly confined. The narrow passages were oppressive, and even the air seemed denser.

When they entered a hall with one entrance and exit, where every corner seemed like a void into the abyss, Henry came face-to-face with the unknown horror. The beast, slowly entering the hall, was as if woven from darkness and nightmares. Its eyes burned like torches, flickering in the light of Henry's trembling flashlight.

"This is the end," Henry muttered, his voice choked with fear, but an inner voice refused to let him give in. "If this is the end, then let it be worthy."

Standing still, Henry felt his own breath halt in his chest. He swung a stick he found, as if it could stop the monster. But the beast continued to approach, ignoring his futile attempts at defense.

"You won't take me without a fight!" Henry yelled, his voice cutting through the silence of the hall. The courage of his words was his only shield against the approaching evil.

In the dark corridors of the labyrinth, where every step echoed off the

stone walls, Henry felt the beast continue to advance. With each step, its presence became more threatening and palpable. "Is this the end?" — flashed through Henry's mind, his back touching the cold wall, like the last barrier before the abyss.

Suddenly, a figure in ancient armor adorned with glowing runes appeared from the darkness, like a ghost. In the stranger's hand gleamed a sword, capturing the dim light of Henry's flashlight.

"Thank you, whoever you are," Henry whispered, backing away, feeling the trembling ground beneath him. The mystical warrior met the beast's gaze with determination, his shield deflecting its wild fury. The warrior's sword instantly plunged into the dark body of the beast, forcing it to retreat and dissolve into the depths of the labyrinth.

Henry realized that he had managed to escape death's clutches thanks to an unknown protector. Perhaps it was the spirits of ancestors, perhaps the guardians of this dark place. But whoever it was, Henry knew he had been given a chance.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Henry collapsed, and he felt himself falling into an endless black abyss. The wind whistled in his ears as he plunged deeper into the darkness. Suddenly, his fall was interrupted—he hit his head on something hard, and the world around him plunged into darkness.

***

The weight of the oncoming pain as he came back to consciousness was as palpable as the coolness of the floor on which Henry lay. His wet hair clung to his face, and his mouth was full of the taste of earth and dust. Something soft and warm was sliding across his cheek, slowly bringing him back to reality.

As Henry awoke, he felt someone licking him. Standing before him was a deer with fur as white as marble and eyes full of indescribable wisdom. The animal radiated light that illuminated the dark corner of the world where he found himself.

"This... this is impossible," Henry slowly said, feeling doubts and fears start to dissipate, receding into the background.

Henry gazed at the deer, astonished by its appearance, and suddenly heard words not uttered aloud but resonating in his mind like an echo of ancient wisdom: "You are not alone, Henry. But now is not the time for doubts."

"What kind of miracle is this?" whispered Henry, cautiously as if afraid to shatter the magic of the moment. His heart beat stronger, torn between fear and astonishment.

"Does this mean I was right? I didn't come here in vain?" Henry felt a layer of confusion gradually lifting, replaced by a new wave of resolve.

The deer, without saying a word, slowly turned and headed down the corridor, looking back as if inviting him to follow. Henry, clutching his head and trying to catch his breath, decided to trust this mysterious savior, hoping it would lead him to an escape from this nightmare.

Walking through the gloomy corridors, Henry almost lost hope. The damp walls of the cave shone from his breathing effort, and each step echoed in the silence. He felt his hand constantly flying to his head as if trying to keep his sprawling thoughts in check. The deer, with its soft snow-white fur, was the only beacon of light in this darkness.

Through the labyrinth's corridors, like through the veins of an ancient world, Henry trudged forward, each step echoing in his weary heart. "Why have we wandered so far? What are we searching for here?" These questions, like a metallic whisper, twirled in his mind.

He murmured to himself as if carving a path through the anxiety, "Adele, where are you? I hope you're safe." In his memories, she shone like a star in the night sky, their shared dreams and laughter now pressing heavily on him.

Nearby, at the end of the corridor, a light flickered, resembling lantern light. Henry quickened his steps, and the white deer, as if driven by some unknown force, swiftly moved toward the light source.

Henry paused, pondering for a moment. "Could this be the exit? Could Adele be there?" The thought of a possible reunion filled his heart with hope.

He surveyed the surrounding space, feeling as if in a parallel reality. "This can't be true," he whispered to himself, sensing how reality and myths intertwined in his consciousness.

At the corridor's end, he spotted a faint light. "Could this be the exit? Could Adele be there?" Hope made his heart race faster.

Henry felt the weight of darkness and solitude upon him. "It's just a hallucination... fear and fatigue," he convinced himself, trying to separate mirages from reality.

Approaching the wall, he leaned against it, seeking some assurance in the looming silence. "Where are you, glowing guide?" his words lost in the darkness.

This deer... why did it bring me here? Questions flickered through Henry's weary mind as he cautiously advanced, pressing against the labyrinth's walls. Thoughts about what compelled this mysterious creature to bring him here, into this tangled network of corridors, swirled in his head.

"Henry! Did you hear me?" Adele suddenly appeared from the darkness, her voice filled with concern and relief.

"Adele! God, I'm so glad to see you!" Henry quickly embraced her, feeling the tension leave his body.

"I was afraid something happened to you. Did you see that beast?" her voice quivered with excitement.

"Yes, it was here. But something or someone distracted it. I... I don't know what it was, but we need to move on," Henry looked into the darkness, trying to discern any potential threat.

They continued their way, feeling how each of their steps echoed through the labyrinth's corridors. Suddenly, Adele stopped and raised her hand, signaling Henry to silence.

"Do you hear that?" her voice was barely audible.

Henry listened and heard a distant but distinct noise—something large was again moving towards them. They both hastily hid in a gleaming room, waiting for what would happen next.

Henry nodded: "Yes, all good. But why didn't you go back?" he whispered.

"How could I leave?" Adele's voice carried alarm. "I had to find you. You wouldn't have made it out on your own. So I went looking for you."

Moist, cool air filled the hall as Henry and Adele, standing in the center of the room, tried to make sense of what was happening.

"Did you see the deer?" Henry started, still puzzled.

Adele stared at him, her eyes wide. "Lord, what deer? There's a deer here too?!"

"Yep," Henry nodded, shaking his head. "And this deer seems to be the one from the myth we heard about."

Adele lowered her head, trying to find some logical answer to all these questions. "How is this even possible? Where are we?" her voice trembled with mixed feelings of fear and astonishment.

Henry,

cautiously touching the walls as if searching for answers, said, "Maybe we've entered some other dimension... Or is it some ancient magic?" his words sounded as if he himself didn't believe his own guesses.

"We need to find a way out of here," Adele said, desperation flickering in her eyes. "But how?"

"Look!" Henry suddenly exclaimed, pointing to runic symbols carved in the stone. "This might be a clue. But how to understand them?"

Adele approached closer, listening to the silence of the stone. "If only we had a key to these symbols... Maybe they point to the exit?"

"Let's try following these symbols," Henry suggested, taking a step forward. "Maybe they'll lead us to the exit."

And so, they began to walk around the room and try to decipher the symbols…

Henry approached one of the stone couches set in the center of the room. They looked like strange sentinels of time, possibly standing there for hundreds of years. He ran his hand over one; the stone was cold but surprisingly smooth, as if it had been persistently polished for a long time.

Henry, looking around the dim room, muttered, "I'm not sure this is the best place for a break." His voice carried a light irony, as if he was trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere of the place.

Adele carefully sat down on one of the couches, as if trying to inject some normalcy into this absurd situation. "We can't rest now," she replied, her eyes filled with determination. "Finding what we're here for is more important." Henry slowly sat next to her, and they exchanged looks.

"Everything will be alright," Henry whispered, gently taking her hand. "We'll find a way out." Hope shone in his eyes, infectious to Adele.

Adele nodded, her gaze fixed on the soft light emanating from the key. The room fell silent, they turned off their flashlights, and the weak, almost magical light from the key filled the space with a mysterious atmosphere.

"Look," Henry said softly, pointing to the invisible presence of something on the other side of the room. A faint light, similar to the glow of the amulet, caught their attention. They cautiously approached the light source.

Getting closer, Adele discovered an opening in the wall, surrounded by glowing patterns. She carefully examined its shape and realized that it perfectly matched the form of the key in her hand.

"It's as if this was made specifically for our key," she exclaimed in surprise, applying the amulet to the opening. The key seemed to be sucked inside, and surrounding them, shimmering waves of light began to emerge as if coming to life from the touch.

"Incredible," Henry whispered, his eyes widening in astonishment. "This could be our way to answers... or to new mysteries."

"Henry," Adele began softly, looking into his eyes, "it seems this key is our way out."

Suddenly, the room was filled with glowing lines, drawing patterns on the walls and ceiling. Adele, holding the key firmly, turned her gaze to Henry. His eyes reflected the wonder and illumination happening around them.

"What could this be?" Adele started, but her words vanished into the air as the greenish lines of light, like living beings, began to intertwine, creating intricate patterns on the walls and ceiling.

Such a spectacle seemed enchanting. The light from the key seemed to awaken the ancient mechanisms of the room. The stone couches, previously appearing lifeless, now sparkled with numerous tiny flames, outlining their contours.

"It's... like magic," Adele whispered, not taking her eyes off the mysterious lights.

Henry nodded, still absorbed by the spectacle. "It's incredible... But what does it all mean? Why is it here?"

Adele walked over to one of the couches, gently running her hand over the stone surface, now adorned with glowing points like stars. "I think this room holds some kind of secret."

In this hall, where each stone couch now vibrated with an imperceptible sound, as if awakening from a long slumber, Adele and Henry felt themselves part of something majestic and ancient. A melody, like voices from the past, floated through the room, filling it with warm light and ancient secrets.

"Look!" Henry exclaimed, pointing at one of the couches. There, like in a mysterious shadow theater, a scene from the life of an ancient city unfolded.

"It's as if it's a window to another world," Adele whispered, her gaze fixed on the holograms.

Scenes changed one after another, showing different epochs and cultures. There was something mesmerizing in these shimmering images; they seemed to narrate the story of civilizations lost in the mists of time.

"What if these aren't just decorations here? Could they be messages?" Henry speculated, amazed as the scenes changed.

"Messages left by someone long ago," Adele pondered thoughtfully. Her fingers touched the cold stone, which in response lit up, revealing a new hologram.

For a moment, both felt as if they could hear voices and laughter emanating from these stone pictures. The air was filled with magic, creating the illusion of the presence of someone invisible nearby.

"All of this looks as if we've entered a world between myths and reality," Henry whispered, feeling chills run down his spine.

Both stood, immersed in the world of ancient legends and secrets, waiting for the next image to possibly reveal the answer to their questions.

"I'd prefer to lie down; it makes it easier to think," Henry said and settled on a stone bench.

Adele, standing next to the bench where Henry lay, watched his face reflecting a world of a different time, a different reality. The warm light from the key enveloped them both, creating an atmosphere of a mysterious ritual.

"Henry, can you hear me?" Adele asked quietly, touching his hand. But Henry was far away, his breathing even and deep, as if he was exploring uncharted corners of his consciousness.

At that moment, new symbols related to the couch where Henry lay lit up on the wall of the room. They glowed with a green light.

Henry, lying on the couch, saw something resembling a menu before him. His gaze was drawn to the largest symbol, and without hesitation, he touched it. At that moment, he closed his eyes, and everything around seemed to disappear.

Adele, noticing that Henry had lost consciousness, was seized with panic. "Henry, wake up!" she shouted, her voice filled with alarm. She started shaking him, but Henry showed no signs of life. His face was calm, as if he was deeply asleep.

She looked around the room, searching for something that could help. Concern and fear of losing him were reflected in her gaze.

"Please, Henry, come back!" her voice trembled with fear and desperation. She tried slapping his cheeks, but it had no effect.

While Adele struggled to bring Henry back to reality, enveloped in a sleepy haze, he drifted through the depths of an unknown virtual world.

"Henry, come back!" Adele whispered, her voice echoing in the silence of the room. She clutched his hand, as if trying to pull him back.

Meanwhile, Henry, in that world, glided through the void. He felt weightless, floating in a timeless space. A screen flickered before his eyes, glowing with green and blue shades. Mysterious hieroglyphs danced on it, seemingly calling him into the unexplored.

"What is this place?" he thought, watching the strange symbols.

In the real world, Adele watched over Henry's motionless figure. Her eyes were full of concern, but she did not look away from him.

"Don't leave me here alone," she whispered, as if he could hear her.

The virtual screen suddenly began to change, as if responding to Henry's unseen commands. He saw images of cities, forests, seas - like windows to other worlds, each enticing him with its mysterious beauty.

"This is the key... the key to everything," he thought, completely immersed.

Adele, sitting next to Henry's motionless body, understood that he was somewhere far away. She held his hand tightly, hoping her touch could bring him back.

Without thinking long, Henry focused his attention on one of the options. "The screen reacts to my gaze," he muttered, watching as the glowing option became brighter. The fog around began to dissolve, and he felt himself moving forward, diving deeper into the unknown.

In the room where Adele remained, she watched Henry with anxiety. "His body is breathing peacefully, but where is his consciousness?" she whispered quietly, holding the key in her hands, ready to pull him out at any moment.

"The silence here is so tense," thought Henry, peering at the symbols on the screen. "I need Adele to solve this puzzle."

"I need to return," flashed through his mind, and as soon as that thought came to him, he woke up.

Adele stood before him, her eyes filled with concern. "You scared me! I thought to take the key and turn everything off. What did you see there?" she asked quickly.

"You need to see this, Adele," Henry said slowly, trying to recall his memories. "It's all written in the same language as here. On all the walls."

"What walls? The whole screen was in hieroglyphs or what?" Adele frowned.

"No," Henry sighed, "as if I was floating weightlessly, and all the screens were covered with these symbols. I realized I'm lost without your help. You know how to read this."

Adele slowly nodded. "Let's figure it out together. We need to understand what this place is and what it wants from us."

"Speak normally," Adele said, her voice teetering between irritation and curiosity.

"No, you see, it's like some kind of menu. And I only needed to think about wanting to return, and I came back," Henry said quickly, recounting his adventure.

"Exactly, we need to try it together!" he said decisively. They held hands and slowly lay down on the couches.

In the darkness before them, the same white screen appeared. Adele and Henry stood side by side, their reflections flickering on the screen's surface.

"It's incredible! How can such technologies be here?" Adele exclaimed, stunned by the reality surrounding them.

"Let's try to figure it out," Henry said, pointing to the words on the screen. "It says just to press to start."

Adele focused on this command, and the next moment a world map appeared before them. It was different – old, ancient.

"It's as if we're traveling in time," Adele whispered. "This looks like a map of the ancient world. Look at these markings, they point to something important."

"Do you see these symbols?" Henry pointed to a series of signs at one of the countries. "They resemble the ones we saw in other parts of the labyrinth. Maybe it's a key to something bigger."

Both of them stood, leaning into the screen, feeling how the mystery of the labyrinth gradually unfolded before them.

"Choose a visit location on the map," Adele read, excitement flickering in her eyes. "Where do you want to go, Henry?"

"My God... It's like our social network, but... this is unreal!" exclaimed Henry, astonished by the perfection of the technology. "Let's go to the North Pole. Where Hyperborea was."

As if in response to his words, reality around them began to change.

A city unfolded before them, a true masterpiece of art: massive white skyscrapers soared into the sky, and between them, like fish gliding in an aquarium, unusual flying ships moved, emitting a soft light. The sounds of the city were almost unreal: melodic but alien, filling the air with the music of a distant future or perhaps a long-forgotten past.

"Where are we?" Adele whispered, her breath visible in the cold air as they hovered above the city.

"I don't know, but it seems to be Hyperborea," Henry replied, his gaze fixed on the majestic landscape.

For a moment, they experienced weightlessness, as if submerged in water, and everything around became silent. From this absolute silence, a soft rustling sound emerged, and suddenly light left the room, and they found themselves back in the same room but engulfed in darkness. They slowly looked around, trying to adjust.

"Let's go back," as soon as they thought about it, they found themselves back on the couches.

"Are you okay?" Henry looked anxiously at Adele, whose gaze was fixed on a snow-white deer and a warrior in silver armor.

"Yes, I... just overwhelmed," Adele averted her gaze, trying to gather her thoughts. "This all seems so unreal."

Henry nodded. "We should follow them. Maybe they will lead us to the answers we're looking for."

"I agree," Adele took Henry's hand, and together they started to follow the mystical figures.

The light from their amulet illuminated the hall, highlighting the magical scene before them. The deer lifted its gleaming eyes and stared at Adele, as if recognizing her. The key in Henry's hand suddenly began to glow even brighter, as if reacting to the presence of the warrior and the deer. But the main question remained unanswered – where is the entrance or exit? What are we even doing here?

The warrior, as if reading their thoughts, pointed to a dimly glowing light in the wall, just like the one in the room with the couches, where they inserted the amulet, and strange sounds began…

Beneath Henry and Adele's feet, the ground trembled, as if it was a living creature. Walls, rising from the floor like ancient mechanisms, began to slowly and steadily change the shape of the hall. Each of them was decorated with mystical symbols, reminiscent of long-forgotten epochs. Sometimes it seemed that the symbols flickered, as if alive, and moved in their places.

Ceiling lights lit up like numerous candles fixed on hanging chandeliers. These lights, softly flickering, created a unique atmosphere of magic in this place. The shadows cast by these lamps danced on the walls, creating incredible illusions.

Adele, holding Henry's hand, exclaimed in admiration, "This is simply amazing... I've never seen anything like it!"

Henry, peering into the mysterious patterns on the walls, thoughtfully said, "It seems this hall holds far more secrets than we could have imagined."

The deer, standing by, slowly nodded its head, as if confirming their suspicions. Its eyes, deep and wise, seemed to say, "You are on the right path."

As soon as the last stone was placed in line, a secret was revealed to them: a long corridor, without a single door, and engraved above was, "Here, everyone will find what they seek," Adele read.

The deer confidently led its companions towards the passage. Its steps were soft and effortless, and it paused for a moment, inviting its companion, the warrior, to follow.

Stepping over the threshold, the passage flashed with blinding light. In this brilliance, the deer transformed into a beautiful maiden. Behind her lay a magnificent green meadow, and in the distance rose green mountains and forests.

She turned to the warrior, beckoning him with a nod and began to move towards this magical place. The warrior, without hesitation, followed her. And there they were, like in a fairy tale, disappeared into the bright light, leaving behind only a faint trail of magic.

Adele, her eyes wide with surprise, quietly said, "Oh my, that's so romantic... They found each other after so many centuries."

Henry, nodding in agreement, added, "Incredible, how powerful that looked..."

As the figures of the maiden and the warrior dissolved into magical light, the hall once again plunged into mysterious silence. Soft ceiling lamps illuminated ancient runic symbols on the walls, creating an atmosphere of unfathomable antiquity.

Henry, taking a deep breath of this atmosphere, turned to Adele, "Just think, maybe everyone who comes here finds what they're looking for, as it

's written above the portal?"

Adele, peering into the passage where the couple disappeared, thoughtfully replied, "Perhaps this hall is something like a mirror of the soul."

Standing before the mystical passage, Henry and Adele paused, as if entering an invisible portal to another world. "Shall we try?" Henry proposed, taking Adele's hand. Hope for discovering new secrets shone in their eyes.

Adele nodded, and Henry, thinking the portal would fade as he took the key from the niche, was surprised when it remained active, seemingly charged by the key. Holding hands, they stepped into the opening, where each step felt like entering another reality.

Around them appeared a room, lit by soft light from the walls, creating an enchanting atmosphere. Reflections from the snow-white walls enveloped them, as if they were inside a huge glowing crystal.

"Strange, why is there only this old inkwell here?" Adele said with confusion, noticing the single item in the room.

Adele picked up the inkwell, examining it. On its surface was a finely drawn line. "It looks like a clue," she thoughtfully said.

Henry, walking around the room, stopped at another exit, decorated with complex symbols. "It seems that's the way out."

Together, firmly holding hands, Henry and Adele boldly moved towards the exit from this mysterious place, ready to face new mysteries face to face. Their steps were full of determination and curiosity.

As they exited, the bright sunlight greeted them, dazzling their eyes. Before them lay the beginning of the labyrinth.

"We... We're back here?" Adele whispered, shielding her eyes from the bright light with her hand.

"Incredible! We did it!" Henry exclaimed with undisguised delight.

Then, Zane and Jane approached them with surprised faces. "Did you decide to come back too?" Zane asked.

"Come back? We've just barely made it out of that labyrinth! It felt like we were there for an eternity," Henry replied, still overwhelmed by the experience.

Zane's eyes widened in surprise. "But we just walked away from you around the corner and immediately came out we started looking for you. Does time flow differently there?"

Adele nodded. "Yes, exactly. It's better not to go in there again. The most incredible things happen there."

"You know, Henry, this place reminds me more of an airport of the future, not a labyrinth," Adele mused, looking into the labyrinth.

Without much thought, they decided to leave as soon as possible. Henry, looking at Adele, said, "Let's get out of here quickly."

Zane, walking next to Henry, curiously asked, "So what did you find there? Is it what we talked about?"

Henry, nodding, replied, "Yes, there was a lot... But the most important thing is the inkwell."

Zane stopped, frowning, "Inkwell? What inkwell?"

"It sounds strange," Henry smiled, "but it's very much like a regular inkwell."

Curiosity seized Zane, who extended his hand, "Show me."

Henry carefully took a small item out of his bag. It was an elegant inkwell with patterns reminiscent of ancient runes.

Zane, examining it closely, exclaimed, "Exactly, this is it! The inkwell!"

"Exactly," confirmed Henry, "and now the question is, what do we do with it?"

Zane held the inkwell in his hands, carefully studying every pattern. The sunlight streaming through the glass roof played on its surface, making each line and symbol mysteriously shimmer.

Zane, weighing the inkwell in his hand, thoughtfully said, "This inkwell... it seems like a regular one."

Walking through the evening city, Henry breathed in the cool air and watched the stars emerge. His thoughts were occupied with reflections on the labyrinth, the deer, and the warrior, left behind in its mysterious corridors.

"So, they never made it out," he mused to himself. "Perhaps only now have they found each other and achieved their happiness."

In his imagination, a picture came to life: "Maybe, like us, they had to leave in their own time. And, likely, they won't come out now, strange all this."

Henry paused, glancing at his watch. The hands had stopped.

"The labyrinth... it's like a pause in time," he continued his musings. "They, perhaps, used it not only as a shelter but also as a mechanism for moving. Like a kind of portal between worlds or something like that."

He delved deeper into his thoughts: "So, when you're inside, time stops. Not just in the labyrinth itself, but in the entire surrounding world. It's like standing on the threshold between reality and... something completely different."

Henry looked up at the sky, staring at the distant stars, and suddenly realized, "My God, it really is like an airport,

exactly as Adele said."

This thought solidified Henry's belief that they had encountered something beyond the mundane, a force capable of overturning their understanding of the world.

Under the soft evening light of street lamps, a gazebo cozily sat outside the hotel. Friends gathered for dinner, their faces reflecting tension but also joy at being safe.

"You won't believe what happened there!" Henry began. "We thought it was just a normal labyrinth... But it was something much bigger."

Adele supported him: "Yes, and it wasn't just about walls and corridors. There was a wild animal... it was chasing the deer, and us."

Zane shifted his gaze to Henry: "An animal? What animal?"

"I don't know," Henry shrugged, "but it was very fast and hunting us, it looked like a large black wolf. We barely saw it. We just felt its presence."

"We thought it was going to eat us," Adele sighed heavily. "But now it's not so clear... Maybe that's the beast from the legend, although the truth about the legend is lost in the mists of centuries, it's all too confusing."

Zane, crossing his arms and lowering his gaze to his plate, thoughtfully said, "Maybe it was the guardian of the labyrinth... Or it was just protecting its territory. Who knows."

Henry, supporting Zane's gaze, slowly added, "Either way, it's better not to go there anymore. That place is full of mysteries, and who knows what else might be waiting for us there."

The atmosphere at the table became more tense, as if each of them was reliving their moments in the labyrinth anew, pondering the potential dangers and secrets hidden in its depths.

In the cozy atmosphere of the evening dinner, as they shared their labyrinth experiences, a waiter approached them, carrying plates of aromatic food.

"Excuse me for interrupting," he began with a smile, "but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation about the labyrinth. By the way, something unusual was observed there today. Did you happen to see a glow in the sky? They say a bright column of light rose from the pyramid, reaching the sky."

They exchanged surprised glances.

"We were there, but we didn't notice anything like that," Henry replied, thoughtfully going over every moment of their journey in his mind.

"Yes, a column of light to the heavens... that must have been a sight!" exclaimed Zane, clearly disappointed that he missed such a wonder.

Adele, with puzzlement in her eyes, added, "We went through the entire labyrinth, but we didn't hear about any light. Strange..."

The waiter, bowing his head as if accepting their surprise, inquired, "And how long were you there? They say the light appeared precisely at noon."

"We thought we were there for about five or six hours," Henry replied, "but in reality, we might have lost track of time. In that labyrinth, it seems, everything is different."

"Yes, the locals say the labyrinth is full of mysteries and wonders," the waiter mused thoughtfully, stepping aside to leave them alone with their thoughts.

The group of friends silently exchanged glances, immersed in contemplation of the mysteries and enigmas of the labyrinth, which seemed to hold much more than they could imagine.

***

The morning greeted them with bright sunshine as they headed to the airport. Henry, lost in thought, pondered the events in the labyrinth, which turned out to be not just a complex structure but a kind of portal between worlds.

"Could it be that the ancient pyramid builders left in the same way?" he pondered aloud.

Adele, turning to him, replied with interest in her voice, "You were thinking about something, Henry?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Imagine if the ancient Egyptians actually disappeared using such portals. Moving between layers of reality, they could have vanished from our world, diving into another where time and space obey completely different laws."

Adele, thoughtful, added, "That could explain the disappearance of entire civilizations without visible traces. They might have transitioned to another dimension in search of new lands or to escape some threat."

Henry, looking out the window at the passing clouds, continued, "And the mysterious labyrinths... perhaps they were not just mazes of corridors but rather airports between worlds, guide points for those who knew their secret meaning."

Adele smiled at him, "You know, that could make for a great book. We could write it together."

P.S.

Herodotus wrote, "I have seen this labyrinth: it is beyond description. The complex system of corridors, courtyards, rooms, and colonnades was so intricate that without a guide, a stranger could never find a way or exit. Mostly, the labyrinth was engulfed in absolute darkness, and when some doors were opened, they made a terrible sound, similar to thunderclaps. Before major festivals, mysteries were held in the labyrinth, and

ritual sacrifices were made, including human ones. Thus, the ancient Egyptians showed their respect to the god Sobek - a huge crocodile. Ancient manuscripts have preserved information that crocodiles, reaching 30 meters in length, indeed inhabited the labyrinth. All the rituals conducted there were dedicated to the god Osiris. Osiris was the god of the dead, or the god of the afterlife.

17.The Zagreb Mummy

The Zagreb Mummy

The morning enveloped the house in tranquillity, and when the doorbell, embedded in the door, rang unexpectedly loudly, everyone inside expected to see Henry's father's old friend on the doorstep. However, instead, a completely different person appeared, with sincere but unfamiliar eyes.

The stranger, noticing the slight disappointment in the gazes of those present, quickly introduced himself:

"Hello," he said confidently, yet with a lightness in his voice. "My name is Nikolai, I am Alexander's younger brother. Sorry for the little confusion."

As he took a deep drag from his unfiltered cigarette, thick smoke curled from under his fingers.

"What do you need?" he added, looking intently at the faces of those gathered.

Henry, somewhat embarrassed, glanced over Nikolai's shoulder at the garage. "We... came to work. The garage has always been our place for creativity and experiments."

"Ah, you're the friends he mentioned," Nikolai smiled. "Please, come in. Unfortunately, Alexander has gone away for a few days, but he'll definitely return. He asked me to look after the house."

Adele whispered to Henry: "Something's not right here, do you feel it?"

Henry nodded. "Yes, but we have no choice but to trust him for now."

Entering the garage, they were enveloped by a sense of nostalgia. On the table stood a chest, sparkling and shining as if it were a magical item from the past, each of its patterns whispering stories of bygone days.

Adele, handling the inkwell, looked at it in confusion. It was unique, with rich bronze detailing and symbols that seemed ancient. Its form was enigmatic, like a key to an unsolved mystery.

Zane carefully examined the chest and noticed a small hole on its side. "Look here," he said, drawing our attention. "Maybe this is what we've been searching for."

They approached closer. The hole indeed seemed to be intended for the inkwell. Adele carefully inserted it inside, and then something incredible happened. A deep, sonorous sound, as if a long-forgotten mechanism had come to life again, made them shudder.

Tension hung in the air. Their hearts raced as they instinctively stepped back. Sounds from the chest, an incomprehensible echo of ancient mechanisms, were accompanied by a barely audible buzzing, filling the garage space.

"What was that just now?" Adele asked, her eyes wide with amazement.

"It seems the table shook for a moment," Adele took a deep breath.

"I don't know, but something has changed," Henry replied, trying to peer into the dark depths of the chest. After the last sound died down, they froze in anticipation, but no other surprises followed.

Zane, looking at the flickering words on the screen, slowly said, "It seems new mysteries await us."

Adele, leaning over the screen, whispered the strange symbols: "This is the ancient Egyptian language. The mystery here..."

Everyone watched her lips, waiting for the translation.

"What lives thousands of years in the sands, and despite death, continues to exist?" she translated thoughtfully.

Silence fell in the room as everyone pondered the answer.

"A mummy!" Henry suddenly exclaimed.

"Correct, a mummy," Adele confirmed slowly, as if weighing each word. "But what it means remains a mystery."

Zane, deep in thought, suggested, "Maybe this piece of cloth from the chest... It's also adorned with strange symbols. It looks very much like the wraps that mummified, doesn't it?"

"Just a moment," said Adele, and her fingers nimbly scrolled through her phone. She was searching for something, murmuring to herself. Everyone froze in anticipation, trying to grasp any meaning in her mutterings.

After a while, Adele triumphantly exclaimed, "Got it! It's the Zagreb mummy, only on it, on the inner side of the cloth, such inscriptions were discovered!"

"Yes, perhaps it's that one," agreed Henry. "I've heard about it. They say the mummy's wraps are inscribed with mysterious symbols. We should think about this."

"The Zagreb mummy?" Zane asked in surprise. "What is that? I've never heard of it."

"It's a city in Croatia, called Zagreb. That's where it's kept, hence the name," Adele explained, adding with determination in her voice, "And we need to go there. Let's find out more information, and I'll tell you all about it on the way. We need to move forward!"

Without further ado, they decided to embark on a journey to Croatia together to unravel the mystery.

***

In the cozy train compartment, illuminated by morning sunlight, Adele gathered her friends around her. "Let's talk about the Zagreb mummy while we eat," she began, capturing their attention.

"This mummy is unique," Ade

le continued, "firstly, mysterious symbols were found on its wraps, which is part of our piece of cloth, and it wasn't easy to decipher."

Zane, making himself comfortable, listened intently, his eyes shining with interest.

"Imagine if we can join our piece of cloth with the larger piece and read them together, maybe we'll uncover the secrets of the ancients!" he exclaimed, not hiding his excitement.

Jane, sitting opposite, looked at Adele with slight astonishment: "Do such things really exist? I always thought they were just legends."

"Oh, no," Adele smiled, "sometimes legends turn out to be reality. And this mummy might prove it."

Zane settled in, ready for a journey through the world of pyramids and gods, while Jane watched Adele with interest, immersed in her vivid narrative.

"It all started in mystical Egypt," Adele began mysteriously, "imagine this: an officer from Hungary, while on assignment, acquires a sarcophagus with a mummy. It's more than just a souvenir."

"Incredible," Zane exclaimed, surprised. "So what's so special about this sarcophagus?"

"Maybe the mystery lies in the fabric of the wraps themselves," Adele speculated, "they say it could be imbued with ancient potions or spells."

The carriage, swaying on the rails, was filled with the scent of coffee mixed with the smell of old parchment. Rays of morning sun playfully danced on the walls.

"If that's true," Henry mused, "then we might be about to uncover one of history's mysteries."

"Exactly," Adele confirmed, "I think we're on the verge of a discovery that could turn our understanding of the past upside down."

"All these stories about ancient mystical mysteries..." Henry began thoughtfully, "they're like a magnet for attention. But should we believe in all of it?"

Adele chuckled.

"That's the mystery of it, to remain unexplained," she replied. "And maybe, in the search for answers lies its own special charm."

Henry nodded, agreeing with her words. The train, like a time vessel, relentlessly carried them further into the world of ancient legends and undiscovered mysteries.

Adele continued:

"The linen cloth that initially wrapped the mummy could have just become worthless trash. The officer wanted to throw it away, not realizing the significance of the inscriptions. But eventually, he changed his mind and kept it. After his death in 1859, the mummy was inherited by his brother, a priest in Slavonia. The mummy was of no use to him, and in 1867, he donated it to the National Museum of Croatia."

Every word from Adele penetrated Henry's consciousness, making him dive deeper into the mystery atmosphere hovering in the air of the carriage, slowly rolling on the rails towards new discoveries.

"Wow, sounds like a real detective story," Henry exclaimed. "So what happened next?"

"The cloth was studied by many experts, but no one could decipher what was written on it or even what language it was," Adele elaborated.

Zane, listening to the conversation with interest, interjected:

"Wow, quite a fascinating story. But where do we find this cloth now, is it still there in the museum?"

Adele continued:

"In 1891, the mummy's wrapping material was sent to Vienna. There, it was studied by Jakob Krall, an expert in the Coptic language. He determined that the inscriptions were made in the Etruscan language."

Henry, closely examining the ink letters on the cloth, added:

"Etruscan language in Egypt? How unusual and mysterious! The Etruscans were one of the most mysterious ancient civilizations."

Adele, thoughtfully looking at Henry, said:

"Yes, their culture and language had an impact on many other ancient peoples. But how are an Egyptian mummy and Etruscan inscriptions connected? It's a real puzzle."

"That's what makes archaeology so fascinating," Henry smiled. "We're constantly faced with mysteries waiting to be uncovered."

"Exactly, Henry," Adele supported him. "Etruscans lived in the north of the territory we now call Italy. The connection between the Italian Etruscan language and the Egyptian mummy is one of the puzzles that excite researchers' minds."

"So, the Etruscans actually inhabited the lands that are now part of Italy?" Henry clarified, thoughtfully staring at the map.

Adele nodded:

"Yes, their culture and language significantly influenced the development of Rome and the entire Italian culture. But this scroll with the mummy... it's really something unusual and unique."

"The ancient Italian language and an Egyptian mummy... Something definitely doesn't add up here," Zane mused thoughtfully, putting aside the manuscript and turning to Adele. "An intriguing story, but the question remains: where do we find this cloth?"

Adele nodded, looking

at the manuscript:

"Yes, it could be the key. But where it is now, that's the question."

Henry smiled, casting a glance at Zane and Adele:

"Well, when we arrive at the last known location of its presence, we'll start searching."

"Here we are in Zagreb," Henry said, stepping off the train. "Let's head straight to the museum."

Adele, looking around, noted, "The city seems so peaceful. But who knows what secrets its museum hides."

They made their way to the museum, whose walls, layered with time and history, held countless untold stories. The museum's entrance door opened with a slight creak, as if inviting them to uncover the next story.

Inside, in a spacious yet cozily lit hall, they saw the mummy they had heard so much about.

"Look," Adele pointed, "there it is."

Zane, approaching the display case, closely examined the mummy: "Interesting, where could the cloth be? It's not among the exhibits."

Henry, scanning the exhibition, speculated, "Maybe it's stored in the archives? Or, as you said, moved to another hall."

Adele, looking at the information plaque next to the showcase, said, "It talks about the sarcophagus and the mummy's history, but not a word about the cloth."

"We should talk to one of the museum staff," Henry decided, "they might know more."

Henry approached a young museum employee and politely asked, "Hello! We're looking for a linen cloth related to the mummy. Could you help us?"

The worker, looking at Henry, then at Adele and Zane, hesitantly replied, "If you mean the cloth with Etruscan inscriptions, it was here, but now it's stored in a special section. Unfortunately, I can't give you access to it, but maybe the museum director can help you with this matter."

Zane, nodding in gratitude to the young man, said, "We should talk to the director. This cloth could greatly help with our puzzles."

The atmosphere in the museum hall seemed filled with mystery as the worker answered Henry's questions. His voice was so soft that his words became barely audible whispers.

"Go to... 'The Collector,'" the employee uncertainly added, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Henry clarified, furrowing his brow.

The employee nodded towards the museum's exit and whispered barely audibly, "The one who... the very one. He is known by a special nickname."

Adele and Zane moved closer to the young worker, trying to better catch his quiet whisper.

"Where can we find this 'Collector'?" Adele asked, straining her hearing.

"At the market," the worker replied, as if struggling to push out each word. "But be careful. Just be careful with him."

Zane, sensing the mounting tension, murmured softly, "We'll be extremely cautious. Thank you for the warning."

Henry, returning to his friends under the museum hall's arches, looked determined, but there was apprehension in his gaze.

"The cloth is with 'The Collector,'" he said with a heavy sigh.

"Who?" Adele, Zane, and Jane exclaimed in unison.

"The very one," Henry tiredly repeated, as if recalling the museum worker's words.

Jane, with open curiosity in her eyes, asked again, "The 'very one'?"

"Seems he's a local authority," Henry explained, trying to unravel the mystery. "It appears everyone here knows him."

Jane recoiled, her eyes widening in fear: "Oh no, have we gotten ourselves into this! Maybe we shouldn't?"

Zane smirked, "We came for the cloth, and we will find it."

Adele nodded, gathering her courage, "Let's go to the market. But we'll be extremely cautious."

So, the group of friends left the museum, stepped out into the sunny street, and headed to the nearest market in hopes of finding "The Collector."

The sun beat down mercilessly, reflecting off the stone cobblestones of the narrow market alleyways. Suddenly, a scruffy group of children, dirty but with a sparkle of mischief in their eyes, swarmed our friends, deftly weaving through the crowd towards them.

"Hey, back off!" Jane exclaimed, pushing away an intrusive boy.

But her words found no echo. The next moment, Henry felt his wallet being snatched from his grasp. "Catch him!" he yelled, pointing to the boy running away with his belongings.

Zane, without hesitation, chased after him, while Adele called out, "Zane!"

They dashed through the narrow market alleys, bypassing vendors and shoppers who scattered to make way for them. And then, quite unexpectedly, they found themselves at the doorstep of an ancient building.

The house appeared dilapidated and rundown, with cracked plaster and windows dulled by time, from which cold and mystique blew.

Bursting inside, the friends found themselves in a spacious courtyard. The walls were adorned with frescoes depicting ancient scenes, like pages from forgotten legends. In the courtyard's center stood

a majestic palm tree, creating a small oasis of shade and coolness in this sweltering world.

Just as they were admiring the courtyard's beauty, the massive wooden doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off their retreat. A crowd of strangers gathered around them, and in the silence, Zane whispered, "We've walked into a trap..."

In the shade, beneath the palm leaves, a figure of a man appeared. He walked slowly, with confidence. A smile played on his face, and his dark, mysterious eyes scanned each of the heroes. His tanned skin, from long hours under the sun, contrasted with his bright-white shirt, as if taken from the past. Beside him, like a little shadow, stood a boy holding Henry's wallet.

"Did you lose something?" the man asked, winking and displaying the wallet.

Henry, holding back irritation, nodded, "That's my wallet. But it's not just the loss that brought us here."

The man, with a slight raise of an eyebrow, showed interest, as if enjoying an intriguing game, "And what else?"

"We're looking for cloth from a mummy," Adele responded, trying to keep her voice steady. "They say it's with 'The Collector.' Is it with you?"

A flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes, and his voice turned sharp and hostile, "I hate that nickname! Never let me hear it again! I am Mr. Faust!"

Then, the corners of his lips twisted into an ironic smile, "Suppose that's true. Which mummy are you referring to?"

"The 'Zagreb Book'," Zane interjected, not letting the topic fade. "We need to find it."

"And what do you have to offer in exchange?" the man's smile widened, as if he relished every moment of this encounter. "Everything in this world has its price."

Adele, without averting her gaze, firmly stated, "We'll find a way to persuade you. But first, we want to see that very cloth, to verify its authenticity."

The harsh sunlight fell on the faces of Henry and Mr. Faust, known as "The Collector," creating deep shadows that lent their street meeting a sense of mystery and tension.

Henry, carefully unwrapping the bundle in his hands, said, "We have a fragment of this cloth. It's considered lost. We'd like to — unite both pieces and uncover the secret hidden within them. As a token of our gratitude, we are willing to give this piece to you. And you will have the entire 'Zagreb Book,' making it a priceless specimen."

Henry, gently placing the bundle on the table, as if emphasizing his serious intentions. Mr. Faust, peering into his face, slowly stated, "So, you're willing to give me this valuable item, just to read its secrets? Unusual for an adventurer."

"Knowledge is more valuable to us than material wealth," Henry confidently replied.

Mr. Faust, with a smile on his lips, asked, "And what exactly is written on this cloth, that you're willing to make such sacrifices for it?"

The room was filled with a tense atmosphere. Henry, struggling to keep a serious face, said, "We found a summoning ritual for Neptune on the cloth. We plan to summon mermaids, beings from the abyss, and Neptune himself."

"The Collector" burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the room, and his aides joined in: "Mermaids, you say? Maybe add some devils to the list?"

This moment lightened the mood, and the room briefly filled with ease. Despite the absurdity of the situation, it was clear that each of them understood they were not just dealing with old objects, but keys to ancient secrets and myths.

Henry, with an unexpected question, turned to "The Collector": "And why do you need this? What are you planning to do with it?"

Mr. Faust, closing his eyes and smiling mockingly, replied, "Ah, we plan to rob a bank with this book."

A profound silence hung in the room for a moment, so deep you could hear even the whisper of candle flame on the ancient table. Then suddenly, everyone erupted into laughter, as if in a history class where a student unexpectedly said something absurd.

Jane, barely containing her laughter, asked, "Are you serious? Rob a bank? With... a book?"

Zane, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table, inquired with interest, "And how, this book... will open the way to the vault?"

Henry, not losing his smile, looked at "The Collector" and said sarcastically, "Well, I'm curious to hear how an ancient manuscript will help you rob a bank. This must be the heist of the century!"

After meeting with "The Collector," friends walked through the narrow city streets, enveloped in the predusk gloom. The sunset painted the sky in shades of

purple and crimson.

Zane, glancing around, grimly noted, "We need to be on guard. They clearly have something planned... he's clearly dangerous."

Adele, agreeing with him, added, "His interests are unclear."

Jane, shuddering at every rustle, stated, "It's unclear how an ancient ritual can help in a robbery. Sounds like madness."

Henry, taking a deep breath, concluded, "We'll find out everything tomorrow. For now, let's find a place to spend the night and plan our next steps."

***

In the evening, they stopped at a cozy hotel hidden in the shadow of old streets. The walls of red brick concealed coolness and seclusion from the outside world.

Gathered in one of the rooms, the group began to devise a plan. "We need to compile a list of questions for 'The Collector,'" Adele suggested, reaching for a pen.

Zane, spreading out ancient maps in front of him, focused on the route: "We must know the area well."

Adele, eagerly examining her set of tools, nodded: "I'll prepare everything for examining the cloth."

Henry, looking up at the text they had already managed to study, mused thoughtfully: "Maybe there are clues here that we missed."

After the discussion, every detail was carefully considered, and the team decided to rest, to be fully charged for the morning.

Morning greeted them with bright rays of sun penetrating through the tall windows of the ancient hotel, casting shadows of antique exhibits on the walls. Excited about the upcoming meeting, the group set off to meet Mr. Faust, known as "The Collector," with their piece of cloth.

In Faust's room, adorned with exotic artifacts, the cloth lay in the center of a large table, like a cover of time with ancient symbols depicted on it. The light streaming through the window shutters fell on the cloth, making its patterns even more mysterious and mystical.

Henry, closely observing the cloth, looked up at Faust: "We've brought a piece that we believe belongs to this cloth. We hope that by combining them, we can decipher the story hidden within the symbols."

Faust, looking interestedly at the bundle in Henry's hands, slowly nodded and gestured for them to proceed. The sunlight illuminated his face, creating a play of light and shadow, making his gaze seem even more penetrating and enigmatic.

Henry, holding the piece of cloth, slowly approached the table. Zane, Adele, and Jane followed him, their eyes fixed on the cloth. Adele carefully laid out her tools next to her, ready for the examination.

"It seems our fragment fits perfectly right here," Adele softly stated, pointing to an exposed section on the cloth.

Henry, carefully joining the pieces, nodded in agreement. Adele, delving into the study of the symbols, murmured: "These signs carry some meaning, a hidden story. We need to understand what they signify and what to do with them."

The tension in the air of "The Collector's" room was palpable, every rustle and movement felt significant. The group was engaged in an important task – uncovering the ancient secrets held within the symbols on the cloth.

Silence, occasionally broken by the sounds of Adele's tools and her soft comments, enveloped the room. Time seemed to slow down, and every gesture, every word felt incredibly meaningful.

After several hours of intense work, as they began to put away their materials, the door quietly opened, and "The Collector" entered. His presence instantly filled the room with new energy.

"Is there anything I can help with?" he asked calmly and respectfully.

Henry, slowly standing up, replied: "We're still working. Thank you for your hospitality."

Feeling the need for a break from the intense atmosphere, Zane asked the guard: "Excuse me, where's the restroom?" He smiled politely.

The guard silently pointed towards the corridor on the left, continuing to watch vigilantly. Zane thanked him and headed in the indicated direction.

Reaching the restroom and quickly taking care of his needs, Zane felt an underlying curiosity. "Maybe I should take a little walk?" he thought, deciding to use the moment while Adele was busy translating.

Zane, carefully and silently making his way down the corridor, suddenly stopped upon seeing an open door. Voices from inside sounded strangely in this atmosphere of mystery. His breath involuntarily slowed as he began to sneak closer to the source of the sounds. The fate of his friends depended on his decisions.

Zane felt his heart might burst from his chest. He crouched beside the wall near the door. The voices inside became clearer.

"We've finally waited," one of them said, smiling. "We'll be rich soon. Let these naïve ones translate this cursed text for us, and the bank will be ours."

"Ah, it will be magnificent!" another rejoiced. "Just don't forget the diving suits. It's time to prepare."

Zane, trying to calm his racing heart, realized they were in a trap. Immediate action was necessary.

He rushed into the room where Adele had already begun translating the text. His agitated breath and widened eyes spoke of the seriousness of the situation.

"Listen to me!" Zane whispered. "I overheard their conversation. They're planning to use our translation for a bank robbery!"

Henry looked at him with disbelief and surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Zane nodded firmly.

Ade

le, turning away from the book, looked at him: "What happened?" her voice was full of concern.

Henry frowned, pondering the situation: "An artifact, an ancient text... How do they plan to use it for a robbery?"

Zane, with a hint of worry in his voice, replied: "I don't know the details, but staying here is dangerous."

The heavy shadow at the door made them flinch. The door opened, and "The Collector" entered with a hint of irony in his smile.

"How's it going?" he surveyed the attendees with his piercing gaze.

Adele, maintaining composure, answered: "All under control. We'll finish soon."

The door closed, leaving them in the dim light of the room. They stood as if paralyzed, feeling the weight of the moment.

Henry scratched the back of his head, breaking the silence: "How do we get out of here now?"

Jane, with a hint of decisiveness, pointed to the window: "Maybe through there? It seems to be our only chance."

They approached the window, which opened into an inner courtyard. The wind gently swayed the trees, creating a false sense of security.

"Too high," Zane assessed the height. "Even with a rope, the risk of being spotted is great."

"And what about the guards?" Zane glanced at the door. "Maybe if we quickly immobilize them and break through the main exit..."

Henry grimly smiled, his gaze filled with determination: "I don't think 'The Collector' just left us alone. They'll be ready for any attempt to escape."

A heavy silence lingered in the room. Everyone realized the need for action, but the path to freedom seemed clouded.

Jane, looking around, suddenly suggested: "What about triggering the fire alarm? In such cases, all doors usually open."

They looked around, but nowhere did they see fire safety sensors. Then Zane pointed upwards: "Look, there, on the ceiling, some kind of control panel. Try to figure it out."

Zane, with a note of determination in his voice, added: "I have a plan. I can hack their security system and activate the alarm signal. It will create chaos, and we can sneak out unnoticed. How about that?"

Their glances exchanged, weighing the risks. Adele, hesitantly, slowly said: "Are you sure you can do it? If they detect the ruse, we'll be trapped with no chance of escape."

Zane confidently nodded: "Five minutes, and I'll handle it. Be ready for a quick exit."

Zane pulled a set of tools from his backpack and began working on the security system control panel. Seconds stretched into eternity, filled with anticipation and tension.

Suddenly, a sharp alarm sound sliced through the air. Henry quickly turned to Zane, who nodded, confirming his successful operation.

"Time to move!" Henry declared firmly, taking Adele's hand. All four quickly moved towards the exit, tensely awaiting an encounter with the guards.

To their surprise, the corridors were empty. The alarm sound caused confusion, and all the staff seemed to have gathered at the main entrance.

Sneaking through several corridors, they reached the main entrance. The guards, distracted by the alarm signal, allowed them an unobstructed exit.

Stepping outside, they took a deep breath of fresh air. Henry, hugging Jane and Adele, sighed in relief. Zane, smiling, added: "We better disappear from here quickly before they figure out what's happening."

They quickly distanced themselves, looking back at "The Collector's" building. Unexpectedly, a figure appeared in its shadow – Griff, "The Collector's" right hand. Watching the departing group, he pulled out a small black device from his pocket and activated it with a button press…