Kors walked around the room from corner to corner:

“And you were silent! You didn’t tell me anything!”

“I knew that you would start to get nervous from scratch.”

“From scratch?!”

“Nothing will happen, Zagpeace won’t do anything to you and won’t put you anywhere!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And now he has no time for us at all, he is looking for those reds who held him captive.”

Kors shook his head.

“If I ask you not to communicate with black people, not to talk to Zagpeace anymore, if I ask you not to approach people and not talk to them, will you do it for me?”

“Yes. I promised you this even earlier.”

“And you haven’t forgotten your promise?”

“No, Vitor, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Are you with me? Tell me? Are you with me?!”

“Yes.”

“Say: “Yes, father. I promise you not to get close to people.”

“Yes, father, I promise.”

“I promise you…”

“I promise you.”

“Not to get close to people.”

“Not to get close to people.”

And Kors, in a joyful fit, hugged him:

“Just you and me, without unnecessary people, right?”

“Yes.”

Kors gently kissed him on the cheek, on his own letter, then pulled back:

“It’s almost worn out,” there was some regret in his voice, and Nikto noticed it. He took a pencil from his jacket pocket and handed it to Kors:

“Here it is. Do as you want.”

Kors took a pencil, he heard that Nik in his thoughts quickly thought: “Or do you want to cut your letter with a knife on the back of my head?” Kors froze for a moment, but decided to pretend he didn’t understand.

With a rod soaked in black dye, he renewed his letter. He circled the lines thicker and smoother. The letter “V” stood out brightly on his Nik’s cheek again, and Kors was overwhelmed with emotions, and he understood that they were base and wrong, and that he was feeding Demon with them, and now he was feeding him much more satisfying than with meat before, but Kors couldn’t do anything with himself.

“Let’s go,” said Vitor Kors to Nikto.

“Where?”

“To the doctor.”

“What for?”

“The reds have good medicines, let him give some to you.”

“Vitor, I don't want to.”

“But you need drugs, Nik, and preferably of the Upper.”

“Can you go to him without me?”

“What nonsense?”

“Well, okay, let me go with you and wait for you behind the door.”

“Nik, don't talk nonsense! What a slavish habit of always waiting behind the door? You will just come with me to the doctor’s office, and let him help you.”

“He’s red, I'm not sure he wants to help me.”

“First of all, he heals people, he took an oath and is obliged to help!”

“But not people like me.”

“I love that you keep away from people and don’t trust them, but you don’t have to be completely wild, Nik. Let’s go, why are you against it? Everything is alright. I’m with you, my dear.”

Nik, head down dejectedly, trailed behind the confidently walking Kors, he turned to him:

“Why do you remember now how I took you to dinner with the blacks? These are completely different cases. Don’t compare the noble blacks and the common red healer.”

“He's not common, he is Kudmer’s personal doctor.”.

“And it is very good! It means that he has good expensive drugs. Reds take tattoos and scars calmly, have you seen their teeth? What are you afraid of?”

“Yes, but the red ones treat black water very badly, he will refuse to treat me.”

“What do you mean refuse? Let him try! Then I'll make him do it.”

“Vitor, no… black water is taboo for the reds…”

“We won’t tell him.”

“If he is a doctor, he will understand, and he cannot help, this is taboo…”

But Vitor Kors didn’t listen to him and entered the doctor’s office without knocking. An elderly man in a white robe and a white cap raised his head in surprise and quickly got up from the table, he quickly reached out to the stack of sheets, taking his glasses from it and putting them on.