Tursed my worid upside down

Mikhail rang the doorbell at exactly eight in the morning. Powoka opened the door, taking advantage of the opportunity to prepare breakfast.

"Good morning. I need Klaus Deffender".

"What should I tell him? He's still asleep."

"Please wake him up. It's urgent. Tell him that Mikhail has arrived. He'll understand why."

Pouoka glanced at the suspicious man again, closed the door and went into the young people's room. At first she knocked, but naturally no one answered. Then she noisily threw the door open.

"Klaus. What have you managed to do already? Some Mikhail is asking for you."

The young man opened his eyes and sat up, covering his face with his hands. His loose black hair fell like a smooth silk carpet on his bare back.

"What are you yelling about, old woman?" he answered hoarsely.

"I'm telling you, some suspicious guy is asking for you. He said it was urgent. He said his name was Mikhail."

Klaus abruptly tore his hands away from his face, threw off the blanket and reached for his sweatpants, touching the sleeping Egor with his foot.

"What's the matter?" he croaked sleepily.

"The bloodhound has arrived," Klaus simply answered.

Both young men began to bustle about. Klaus, barely managing to pull up his pants, quickly walked past Pouoka straight to the front door. She had never seen the prince go out even for breakfast until he had put himself in order. The woman became agitated.

"Egor, who is this Mikhail?" she asked her grandson excitedly, who had already managed to roll up his bed and was also following Klaus.

"This is the man who must bring information," he quickly answered and disappeared from the room.

When Egor approached the front door, Klaus had already closed it and was holding a thin yellow envelope in his hands.

"It's no use now," he said sadly, waving the envelope in front of Egor's eyes.

"What do you mean? Why?"

"Because that dark-skinned man is dead."

Egor went cold. How could this happen? He had been full of energy just two days ago.

"What happened to him?"

Klaus didn't answer. He went to the bathroom and came out ten minutes later with his hair in a perfect high ponytail and a T-shirt. Egor was sitting in the kitchen with his grandmother, among the empty concrete walls, on an old stool at a plastic table that they had brought in from the balcony. Only the stove and the sink were left in the kitchen, but as Pouoka said, tomorrow that would also be gone.

"Can I have some coffee?" asked the dark-haired young man, joining the others.

"Your breakfast is on the stove. You can pour yourself some coffee," said Pouoka.

Egor waited silently for Klaus to finally answer his question, but he was in no hurry.

"Klaus," the fair-haired man couldn't stand it. "How did this happen?"

Slowly chewing a piece of fried bacon, the young man raised his completely calm gaze to Egor.

"They took him to the police station after all," and fell silent again.

"And?" Egor was starting to get angry.

"He was obsessed, Egor."

As if that phrase could explain everything. Egor waited for him to continue, but Klaus apparently decided that he had already answered the question.

"Damn you! Can you answer a question normally? At least once!" Pouoka's grandson was surprised by his own raised voice and the irritation that had overcome him, but he couldn't do anything about it. He saw how his neighbors in the apartment looked at him. How they glanced at each other, but Klaus still didn't answer, and continued methodically devouring his breakfast.

"Egor," Powoka began softly. "You already know what obsession does to a person, right?"

"Grandma, I don't have time for you to check my memory now. Can you just tell me, is it because of us that he died? We killed him?"

"You are not guilty of anything." The old woman shook her head and Egor felt a weight lift from his heart. "The one who cast a spell on this man is to blame for everything. The man could not resist. His mind does not see barriers. Including prison bars. The man had to find you and until he did so, he lived only with this thought. He could not eat, drink, sleep. He could beat his whole body against the bars without feeling pain. He needed to get out and, apparently, his body could not withstand it. I feel sorry for this man, but we could not help him in any way," Pouoka sighed.

And then Egor realized that it was their fault that the man died. His fault. The possessed one couldn't get it, and Egor couldn't save the man because he was only thinking about how to protect his own skin. He didn't even think at that moment what could happen to that man. He didn't think that if he had taken the ball with him, he could have saved an innocent life. Egor could have gone back. He could have tried, but he didn't do anything. He killed the man. Yes, not with his own hands, but what difference did it make?

"Just don't start beating yourself up now," Klaus said calmly, taking a big sip of coffee.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" Egor snapped.

"Believe me, I know," the prince answered and got up from the table. "Let's go for a walk."

"I don't want to go anywhere."

"I didn't ask you."

The walk was tense. Egor didn't want to see the prince now, but here he was, walking down the street with him. He couldn't say no. He couldn't show character. He couldn't stop thinking about the poor man who died in a prison cell without even realizing who he was. The last hours of his life were poisoned by obsession. Why was Klaus so calm and serene? The man died because of them, and the prince didn't seem to care.

Egor looked at the young man with different eyes. How could he ignore this before? Klaus had always been cold-blooded. Nothing bothered him. He was rude to the old woman who took him in, the boss who gave him a job, his colleagues. He always took their help for granted and never doubted that everyone around him was indebted to him.

How could Egor think that the prince even slightly considered him a friend? Helped him? Saved his life? He did everything only because it was beneficial for him. His plan to return home. And now, stealthily looking at Klaus's handsome profile, he saw only a forward-looking gaze. A gaze in which there was not a drop of regret. Not a drop of remorse, only unconditional confidence in himself and his rightness.

The fair-haired guy was completely immersed in his thoughts and did not even notice how they approached some kind of bar or cafe.

"Let's have a bite, and maybe even a drink," said Klaus, opening the door covered in greasy stains.

"I'm not hungry."

The prince just looked at Egor and moved on, choosing one of the many free tables. And again, Egor followed him without question. He felt sick of himself. Of his spinelessness and of the fact that, despite all the prince's shortcomings, he continued to admire him. Perhaps this was what angered Egor the most.

"Beer? Cider? I don't see anything else here," Klaus asked, looking through the menu and not raising his eyes from it.

"I don't want to."

"Come on. Let's have a drink, eat and figure out what to do next. The clue that could lead us to the puppeteer has disappeared. We need to look for other options."

"Listen, do you really not care about anything?" Egor asked quietly, staring at the knot pattern on the "wooden" table.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that man."

"Don't start."

"Why? Doesn't your conscience bother you?"

"Why should it bother me?" Klaus was surprised.

"That's it! I've had enough," Egor raised his voice. "You're an insensitive, selfish, narcissistic idiot! The life of another person is worth nothing to you! I understand that you grew up where human life, the life of a slave, is worth nothing, but is it really that bad? Is there really nothing human in you? Compassion, for example? Conscience? Do you feel anything at all?"

"Stop being hysterical. We can't change anything. What's the point of lamenting it now?"

"You... you! I don't want to see you," Egor blurted out, standing up abruptly from his chair. "I was wrong when I thought we became friends! Do you even know what friendship is? You're a disgusting person!"

"Get out," Klaus answered calmly.

Egor took one last look at him, turned around and walked out into the street. What did he expect? That the prince would reveal another part of himself to him, which, just like Egor, was lamenting the death of a stranger? That he would say that Egor was his friend? That he would try to justify himself somehow? Yes, he expected something like that and hated himself even more for it. Naive and stupid - that's who he was.

Klaus looked at the empty table in front of him. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Yes."

"I understand that you have time off and all that, but I really need you to come to work today." Clara quickly rattled off. "Please, it's very important. He is not only a profitable client, but also a very good friend. You can't let me down like that. Please meet me halfway just one....."

"I agree."

"What, forgive me?" a surprised voice was heard.

"I said, I agree. Send me a message where, what time and what I should wear."

"God, Klaus, is this really you?"

"Are you not happy with something?"

"No... no, I'm just surprised that..."

"I'm waiting for a text message. Bye," and he hung up.

The young man ordered himself a steak, a meat stew, a roast beef sandwich and coffee. He ate leisurely, looked at the message, left a decent tip, and left the unsightly eatery, which served surprisingly good food.