“But they teach the basics of combat! I need scripts!”
“Well, you know them! And in fact, everyone knows the basics of communication, they are inherent in human nature. They just don’t use them, they never think about it. And you thought, closely followed the actions of others, observed and applied your discoveries in practice. You just need to be clear about your intentions. It shakes you because you often don’t understand what you want. What do you want in the end from this object? Understand what you want from him, what is your goal, and act on that basis. If you want to drink wine, you stretch out your hand to the bottle and take it from the table, you don’t try to take it with your foot, do you?”
“What if I don’t know what I want? I want to see first, then understand. It was difficult for me to fit in with a woman. In red Tyutya. I barely understood how to pull away, I felt her with my body, I looked with her eyes. Fortunately, Parky wasn’t fucking her at that moment, otherwise I would have caught an unforgettable sensation!”
Nik laughed again.
“Any, even the most serious conversation, Vitor Kors will always eventually turn to fucking.”
Kors fell silent in annoyance.
“But you can also listen and feel what your lover feels under you when you fuck him,” Nik decided to sweeten.
“Ah, so I can enter, for example, into your memories, where we make love, where I take you, and practically fuck myself?”
“Yes! It’s great!” Nik was quite amused.
“Yeah… jerk off and fuck with myself – this, apparently, is mine…”
“Endless talk of fucking and brain jacking. Over the past day, you have fucked me in your head a million times! Well, how much can you do it?! He wants to study, hahaha…”
“I want to learn! What is the meaning of this gift? What use is it to me and what use is it that I watch stupid lives?”
“But you like it, and you climb in the minds of others all the time.”
“What is left for me? I entertain myself! I watch them like a play in a theatre, absolutely mediocre productions! Catastrophe! And you know… I never liked the theater! What an irony! All this is empty! From the fact that I see them, there is no sense, I see that they are not interesting to me and I don’t need them. They are stupid sheep. It doesn’t give me anything.”
“Except for jerking off?”
“Except for jerking off,” Kors agreed obediently, “I’m bored with it. Give me another gift!”
“I’m bored too, Vitor.”
“You don’t need to reflect me now, this is stupid, I learned all your tricks and gimmicks!”
“I don’t reflect. I’m really bored too. Why do you think you’re the only one who’s bored here? Lots of people are bored! You are not an exception!”
Kors turned to Prince Arel lying on the couch:
“Teach me to squeeze everyone with an invisible hand, as Arel can, give me such strength!”
“Why do you need it?”
“I need it! You are not helping me find my true self, holding me back because I am above you in the hierarchy!”
“Here it starts … I help you more than you think!”
“I am higher than you, and you are afraid of me and hold me back!”
“In my opinion, he drank pretty well at Zaf’s,” Arel noticed, “and he is being carried away.”
“But it seems to me that it always carries him, and even more when he is sober,” Nik disagreed.
He turned to the displeasedly silent Kors.
“Now I will inject myself with a restorative and begin.”
He took out his box, and, slightly bowing his head, as always concentrated, but at the same time very quickly began to prepare a dose for himself.
“I’ll inject myself in the neck, it won’t take long.”
And Kors turned away, he could never calmly watch the Demon destroy the body of his son.
“Nik, why did the unclean ones put you on black water, for what?”
“For nothing.”
“But why then? What was the meaning of it?!”
“Meaning? They wanted me to live.”
“What kind of nonsense? Or did you start injecting yourself?”
“No one in their sound mind would do that.”
“The key word here is ‘sound’. Maybe my human son tried to commit suicide in this way?”
“No, even he wouldn’t do that. And where would he get black water? Vitor, you are very wordy, you really tire. I’m tired of your endless thoughts, questions, you delve into every little thing. Royal Investigator! Enough! Everything! Business before pleasure! Start undressing!”
And Kors, without objecting, began to unfasten his weapon and take off his clothes, folding them neatly beside him.
With a sharp and rude movement, Nik brushed off everything that was on it from the table top. Plates and bottles crashed to the floor.
“Oh! Nik, why couldn’t you just call Verniy to clean it up? Why are you so fond of destroying everything and sowing around a mess?!” Kors groaned.
Nik didn’t answer. He set his bag on the table, which always contained his box of drugs, tools and paints, and never food, much less a change of clothes, and began to arrange the jars on the table with concentration. And Kors couldn’t help admiring his magnificent white mane covering his entire back. Now, in the beautiful black leather pants Kors had given him that hugged his legs and ass like a second skin, and the short vest Kors had also given him, laced right over his naked body, he was incredibly attractive. Maybe from the fact that Kors was on his knees and looked at Nik from the bottom up, but his legs didn’t seem short to him at all, and Nik himself didn’t seem small to him. He had good proportions. And that blond hair covering a black leather-wrapped ass. “Gods! But why does he have such beautiful hair that literally drives me crazy? This is the appearance of a vicious Angel. I can’t think of anything. You’re hot as all your hell put together! Damn you, fucking Nik!”
“I need to change you a little,” Nik said, “you are part of the fist, remember? And you must have all the attributes.”
“And my human son told me there was no fist,” said Kors.
“And you believed him?”
“Well… unlike you, he never deceived me, he always told the truth. I didn’t listen to him, but then, on my own bitter experience, I only confirmed his words.”
“No matter!” Nik threw, and so habitually for Kors, he abruptly turned his whole body away from the table that one of his braids loudly clanged with hairpins on the side of the tabletop. A black faceted bead slid off the cord and rolled across the floor. Nik instantly reacted to this sonorous fractional sound, he lowered his bandaged head, looking at the floor. Seeing the bead lying there, to Kors’ surprise, he bent down and picked it up. Thoughtfully turning in his hands, and, apparently, still managing to compare cause and effect, Nik turned his gaze to his scythe. Seeing that it was disheveled, and the ribbon was untied, he put the bead aside, and to Kors’ even greater surprise, taking the braid in his hands, wrapped the ribbon several times around the fluffy tip and tied it into a knot, straightened it. And then, returning to his instruments again, he took the unclamp, by touch, without a mirror, turned his ring hanging under his nose, and, without taking it out, opened it, strung a black bead on it and closed it again. He twisted his nose ring so that the black bead now hung exactly under his nose.
“What are you doing? Savage!” Kors shook his head.
“Eh?” Nik asked.
“Damn you! You’re hotter than all the pots and pans in your fucking hell!”
Nik froze, obviously not understanding, but then, shaking his head, he drawled:
“Ahh, you keep on jerking off to my appearance… It looks like you won’t stop doing it even if I really do put a bag over my head.”
“But at the same time, will you stay in these tight-fitting pants and a vest on your naked body? Why are you walking half naked in front of me?”
“Damn, am I supposed to wear a cape?! Why don’t you just stop staring at my ass?”
“While you’re in those pants, it’s impossible!”
“You gave them to me yourself!”
“Yes, and they were just ordinary pants, expensive, of good quality, but completely ordinary. Why does everything look depraved on you? Fallen Angel! You desecrate the gift of beauty given to you thanks to me and Inness, you make everything vulgar and dirty.”
“No, I don’t spit on it. I love to dress beautifully. I love expensive clothes, jewelry, and I like to adorn myself,” Nik disagreed, “I appreciate everything, even though you only see my hair, you don’t see a person in me. And you rich true blacks… you just think you have the right to have my hair and eyes and use me as you please!”
“No! People are fascinated by you, want to love you and believe you! And I believed! And you played those strings! You know how to do it! Are you saying people don’t see you as a person? Yes, maybe they pay little attention to the fact that you are a fool, but only not me, a true black, played with you like with a doll! You played with me! You charmed me! Only this beauty, this gift, the tool that you use so shamelessly, I gave you! It was me! I was not afraid to break the laws of racial purity, I was not afraid to ruin my career! Not afraid of anything!” Kors tried to end his monologue on the most dramatic note.
“Really?” To his disappointment, Nik reacted rather indifferently. “I remember something now… how you asked me for forgiveness for the fact that, blinded by your love for a white virgin, you didn’t think that your children would be half-bloods. You admitted you’d just get rid of the wrong child. “Little children often die” – these are your words, right?”
Kors froze.
“And now it turns out that it was your gift to me? And for me you made such sacrifices! How can I thank you, daddy master? You gave me such beautiful rings in the lower lip! I love wearing them so much!”
“Nik…”
“Okay, okay, I really like them.”
Kors wilted ashamed, but still stubbornly said:
“After all, I confessed to you honestly, I was honest. And I loved honestly, too. Have you ever been honest with me?!”
“I was!”
“When?!”
“When I said I love you!”
“Nik, I loved you honestly too! And I was not afraid of anything! Of condemnation of friends, of loss of reputation, of nothing! Humiliation, punishment – I survived everything! I gave you everything! And what did I end up with?”
“Are all these victims just because of my appearance? Because of beauty, as you say? I’m not your Inness!”
“I know!”
“Vitor, wake up, I’m a half-blood, and my appearance deprives me of all the privileges that pure-blooded blacks have. Not only that, I’m lame! I’m a cripple! All in scars! Do you want to be as beautiful as me?! You will charm everyone! Want to try?”
Kors was confused:
“You have perfect facial features, these are the black and white races in the most beautiful combination, and try to argue that this is not so!”
“Yes? Only everyone is constantly staring at me, looking at me, everyone considers it their duty to say something about my appearance, witty, as it seems to them! Joke!” In Nik’s intonation appeared annoyance and frustration. Kors immediately caught on to this and perked up.
“The way you mutilated yourself is not my fault, you are just reaping the fruits of your stupidity! And when I ask you to give me the opportunity to help you with the treatment, you throw your boot at me! Well, now wear a mask so that they don’t stare at you, it’s your own fault!”
“Oh, I’m crying now! Yes please, I like my mask! I began to open my face only because Arel ordered, he ordered me to wear only half the mask. It’s not about beauty, understand! I fought in both Lower and Upper, and the audience didn’t know what I looked like, they never saw me with an open face. At Dim’s in the Upper Colosseum, I never took off my mask.”
“Yes, I understand,” agreed Kors, “you wanted to be perceived and appreciated as a warrior without being distracted by your pretty face. And in the Upper Coliseum, did Dim forbid you to take off your mask?”
“Dim didn’t forbid me anything, he didn’t tell me how I should look. It was you who forbade me to speak, to look like I want, to talk to whoever I want, to do what I want, to go where I want, just to move and see! You forbade me everything! But I loved you so much that I put up with it and was ready to be your doll! I listened to everything you were saying me! Only you yourself threw me away! Just like Arel, when he loved you, you threw me away too, you yourself threw him away! Remember how you shied away from me in disgust and called me a vile creature!”
“Stop it!”
“Well, you continue to forbid even now!”
“Sorry… I loved you for more than just your appearance. I didn’t throw you away, I was just very disappointed with your lies, your deceit, that's all…”
“Well, of course! I always blame you for everything! You have collected all the burning coals on my head! For you, I’m an ungrateful deceiver, I didn’t appreciate all your victims! I don’t respect my father! Just notice, I call you daddy master and I’m proud that I have such a father, and you always call me a jerk!”
“Just because you don't understand how madly I love you!”
“You threw me away! And despite this, I didn’t stop loving you!”
“And at that moment, Prince Arel, lying relaxed on the trestle bed, suddenly laughed loudly. They looked at him in surprise and questioning. He, noticing their glances, explained:
“You are quarreling so funnily. I love you! And I love you more! No, I love you more! No – I! Aha-ha!”
“It doesn’t concern you, Prince Arel,” Kors grumbled, embarrassed, “and you know, as they say, no one is a judge of two, so we sort things out as we want. Mind your own business!”
“Well, please …” Arel grunted, continuing to choke with laughter. “Vitor, I love you too, I’m saying just in case.”
Kors turned away, grimacing.
And Nick said:
“I'm really tired, Arel is right. It’s time to get down to business.”
“Found someone to listen to, the stupid handsome prince…”
“Vitor! Enough! I’m not your doll anymore, I’m your teacher, so shut up and crawl over here.”
“I can stand up?”
“No! I said crawl! Do you misunderstand?”
Lowering his head, Kors got on all fours and crawled to the table, trying not to touch the lying plates and not to plunge his hand into the spilled wine. His shiny ponytail slid off his back to one side, and the ends dragged along the floor. He crawled to Nik’s feet.
“You can sit on the chair,” Nik said, and Kors immediately got up from his knees and sat down.
From the velvet bag Nik took out small gold rods, the ends of which were encrusted with dark blue stones into balls.
“I’ll pierce your chest,” Nik showed Kors the jewelry, “I’ll insert these little bars, and if necessary, you can attach a chain to them.”
“Where did you get them from?” Kors was genuinely surprised. Nik pressed one small rod into his palm so that Kors could get a good look at it.
“I ordered them from a jeweler in Ore Town for you, a long time ago. Are they beautiful?”
Kors turned the delicate ornament in his fingers.
“Nik! Really beautiful!”
The bars were small and neat, Kors really liked them. He didn’t expect Nik to pick up such aristocratic jewelry for him. Knowing his vulgar taste, he didn’t count on something moderate. He expected Nik to insert his favorite thick carved rings into his chest.
“When did you order them? You were with me all the time!”
“Vitor, I don’t need to go anywhere for this, I just gave a mental order to one of my unclean ones, showed that I wanted to.”
“Your secret world that I always forget about… you do everything in a quiet way…”
“It will hurt a little,” Nik warned.
“I can’t get used to it!”
Still, Kors couldn’t help but close his eyes, clenching his teeth, as Nik pierced his nipple with a special catheter needle. All these flesh punctures Kors associated with negativity and bad moments. With heavy memories of beatings and pain in the Limit and then, when on a hike to the mountains, he fell under the monstrous pressure of Arel.
“Now I’ll paint you, no matter how long it takes,” said Nik.
“I don’t care. Paint me if you like.”
“Of course, it’s just dye. I would look at how you would behave if I said that I would tattoo you all.”
“No, I really don’t care anymore and you will do it sooner or later and so,” Kors replied doomed.
Nik knelt down in front of him on the floor and drew some signs on his ankles. They wrapped around Kors’ legs like bracelets, and the designs rose a little higher, but the design was not at all like the black stripes of slave bracelets, like Nik himself. It was a beautiful ornate pattern of intricate weaves and, as it were, letters and signs. Nik took Kors’ hand by the wrist and adorned it much the same way. Kors now had beautiful designs on his ankles and wrists.
“Hmm,” Kors said, “Nik, I didn’t expect this from you, what is this?”
“Protection,” Nik replied simply, without going into details. “Tip your head back a little.” He covered Kors’ neck with signs and patterns for a long time and very carefully.
Hell, even a high collar won’t help, Kors thought. But what could he do? It only remained to be glad that Nik didn’t touch his face and hands. The rest could be somehow hidden by clothes.
“Get up.”
Kors hastily got up from his chair.
And Nik began to draw signs on his chest, and he painted Kors in a completely different way than Marg did in the Limit. The design on Kors’ chest was more like the seal on Nik’s forehead. Circles and criss-crossing lines formed triangles, letters intertwined into words in an incomprehensible language.
“Are you drawing a Pentacle on me? Are you putting witch seals on me?”
“Are you good at this?” Nik interrupted him. “Shut up at last.”
Nik was doing everything very diligently, it seemed that now his tongue would stick out of his zeal from his gap in the bandages. Kors saw him blinking his thickly painted black eyelids, narrowing his eyes, tilting his head first to the left, then to the right. Painting his body, Nik was so close, so close, so warm, Kors felt his breath on his chest. Memories flooded over him, he was no longer afraid, he wanted his boy, the more he realized that Nik really didn’t stop loving him. Moreover, Kors still had some influence on him. From time to time, Nik slightly moved away from Kors and froze, carefully examining and, as it were, evaluating what had been done. At one of those moments, Kors leaned forward, reaching for his bandaged face, for the beaded ring hanging under his nose. He reached out, grabbing his lips and taking the jewelry into his mouth. He felt how the bead, under the pressure of his tongue, smoothly scrolled on the ring, and everything in his stomach tightened pleasantly.
Nik recoiled.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” But his voice was cheerful.
“I want to kiss you on your pretty nose," Kors whispered.
“You don’t see it! I bandaged it up.”
“I still remember it and I want to kiss it!”
“Only the nose?” Nik asked a little slyly.
“Well… for beginning, and then, of course, I want to kiss you all over.”
“Why? Are you no longer afraid of my scales?”
“No! I’m not afraid! You really can be the most different, you know how to change!”
“You’re afraid!”
“No! Do it! Show me your snake form, I will kiss you on your scaly body!”
“No. Not now.”
“I realized that I can’t live without you, my Demon, my Nik! I love you no matter what!” Kors dropped to his knees before him.
“I also love to fuck with you, Vitor, I love you very much. You, too, are hot as fire in hell, or whatever you call it,” Nik put down the brush, “crawl on the skins.”
And Kors obediently got on all fours and crawled to where he was pointed. Without changing his position, he stopped on a skin lying on the floor and lowered his head low on his folded hands. Everything inside him was on fire, and, fading with anticipation, he heard Nik, clanging buckles, take off his clothes.
He knelt down next to Kors and stroked his back. Kors froze, catching every touch. He felt Nik part his buttocks and lick, run his tongue over his hole, and Kors closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, ready to explode. How he yearned for this. For this sex without restrictions and prohibitions. He heard Nik hiss his “purr” softly and lick Kors harder.
“Please, don’t torment me, fuck me!” Kors shouted.
And Nik thrust his cock into him, making him literally howl with pleasure. It was unbearable, his stomach filled with heat and twisted into a knot, the cock inside throbbed, and each push was felt more and more sharply, from pleasant soft waves to bright influxes, more and more. Kors tried his best to stand straight, but his legs gave way. He wanted to squirm with pleasure, writhing under Nik, and scream out loud. Arel approached them, slowly, gracefully, like a cat, sank down beside him on a fluffy skin, and leaning over, squeezed Kors from behind by the neck, with his teeth gently, but at the same time with force, grabbing his withers. Kors just sobbed, ready for anything.
He exuded energy over the edge, but just as he gave it to them, he received it, exploding with orgasms, it was an exchange. And for these moments, Kors was ready to be humiliated, beaten, anything – just to be with them and get it. Nik fell off him and fell on his back, pulling Kors towards him. He immediately understood everything, almost lying on top, clinging to him, he himself, guiding his hand, inserted his cock into himself, while at the same time spreading his legs wide for Arel, and he didn’t keep himself waiting.
Chapter 10
After a crazy and sleepless night, Kors didn’tremember how he fell into a deep and restful dreamless sleep. This had not happened to him for a long time, therefore, opening his eyes, he was very surprised and looked dumbfounded at Nik, who was gently tuggingat his shoulder, affectionately repeating:
“Vitor, daddy, wake up!”
“Yes, yes,” Kors replied, not really understanding what he wanted from him yet.
He felt good. He was full of wonderful emotions and memories of a magical night. Nothing was hurting. And his cock didn’t fail him the night before, which he was also incredibly happy about. Everything was amazing.
“Oh, Nik, I fell asleep, what time is it?”
“Two in the afternoon, I think,” Nik thought for a moment, “fourteen hours,” he added, but not very confidently.
“Gods, it’s already two in the afternoon!” Kors sat up abruptly, realizing only now that he was lying on a pair of skins thrown on the floor. But how sweetly he slept on them! Truly they say, with beloved, even a hut is heaven. Just for how long?
Nik shrugged his shoulders.
“Two hours, so what? Why is it always important to you?”
“Because time is of tremendous value.”
“Really tremendous?” Nik asked with some disbelief.
“Yes, vitally important!” Kors looked at him, still bandaged, and felt very sorry for him. Nik, under such an attentive look, was embarrassed and quickly straightened his bangs, shifting it to the side, so that his eyes were visible in the gap between the bandages. He learned and remembered that Kors didn’t like it very much when his hair covered his face, and hastily removed them, as if his father would now reprimand him and begin to scold him, and this also pleased Kors.
“What about desire?” Nik asked. “Aren’t desires more important than time?”
“What does desire has to do with it?” Kors didn’tunderstand.
“Well, it’s just that the rain has stopped, and it’s time for us to get ready for the road,” Nik said, shaking his head awkwardly, and, having risen heavily, moved away from Kors.
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” Kors replied.
“Should I order Verniy to fetch your horse?”
“No. I myself will order Parky to do something useful. He’s been acting disgusting lately.”
“Hmmm,” Nik agreed, already clinking bottles.
Kors stretched sweetly, and, still in a good mood, mentally called Parky, addressing him: “Parky! This is your hangman. Set down the camp and bring my horse to the White Lord’s tent.”
Parky didn’t react to the “joke” and immediately answered him absolutely neutrally: “Yes, commander.” Like nothing happened yesterday.
Very quickly – Kors had just managed to get dressed – his captain appeared near their tent. He rode on his horse, and without any rope, Grrkh obediently followed him, who still had neither a saddle nor a harness. Verniy immediately began to saddle it for Kors, and Kors, already in words, asked his foolish wolf if everything was in order in their camp, and heard the usual answer that everything was in perfect order.
“Tell Adrian to come here, let him ride next to me,” Kors ordered, “and you watch the carts.”
“Yes, Commander,” Parky saluted, and they parted.
Kors didn’t care about Parky now, he no longer wanted to beat him and punish him. The anger subsided, replaced by an overshadowing joy from the fact that Nik didn’t stop loving him. However, a little later, when they were already driving along the road, Kors, a little moving away from the initial euphoria, began to think about what had really happened? Did he manage to get away with it? Or not? Nik and Arel won’t pressure him anymore? Kors dodged the “reflection” with an iron bar? He couldn’t give an exact answer and a guarantee to this.
They rode all day. And Kors felt tired. A surge of strength and joy passed, as if he borrowed them, and here it is – repayment with interest. He barely made it to a short halt, literally slipping off his horse and falling on the skin near the fire lit by Verniy. Valentine began to boil some stinking rubbish in a pot. Nik and Arel were in no hurry to leave their horses. Standing next to them, they examined them and discussed something quietly. Arel lifted the front leg of his Beauty with his hand, leaning towards it and carefully examining his knee joint. Kors realized that he was madly wanting to drink or take a reducing agent. He lay on the skin on his side. The smell of Valentine’s stew seemed unbearable, he was sick, and every minute more and more.
“So be it,” Kors thought doomedly, and as soon as Nik approached the halt site, Kors nervously sat down and asked:
“Nik, will you give me the restorative?”
In his heart, Kors was even afraid that Nik would suddenly refuse him and not give him the restorative. But Nik immediately took out a box from his bag.
Moreover, he said:
“Here, take it for several days at once, so as not to ask every time,” and handed Kors a couple of small glass bottles. Tightly sealed, they retained within themselves a concentrate of restorative power.
“Do you have something to dilute it? Or should I give you?” he asked Kors, also sympathetically.
“I have, Nik, thanks…”
After a couple of hours they went on, and Kors didn’t regret at all that he had taken the drug, perfectly aware that otherwise he simply wouldn’t have been able to continue the journey. And now, having eaten Valentine’s stew with relish, he felt quite cheerful on a horse. And so it continued. On short halts, Kors took the restorative, and after that he could go further in a good mood. After about three or three and a half hours, he began to get sick, and his mood deteriorated. Hishead became heavy, and unpleasant sensations rolled in a panic wave, knocking down the breath. His body was covered with sticky sweat, and he had no strength to remain in the saddle. But, fortunately, they often stopped for short halts, and Kors immediately “cheered up” in this way, interrupting from hour to hour and enduring this tedious road.
The unclean ones rode day and night. Nothing special happened. But it was enough for Kors that Nik was there. He didn’t talk much to Kors, he was silent and seemed to be tired, exhausted, but he didn’t drive Kors away and didn’t humiliate him. During the halts, Nik didn’t part with his crutch and could hardly walk, strongly dragging his lame leg. His face was still covered with bandages, and he, too, was taking the “restorative”, Kors saw with bitterness that bleeding ulcers reappeared on his son’s arms.
At one of the next short halts, Nik threw back his hood with some anger, and, moving the hair covering his face to the side, pressed his hand to the bandage on his mutilated cheek:
“Oh-oh-oh…”
“Nik, are you hurt? What’s up with you?” Kors immediately became alarmed.
“It twitches terribly and itches under the bandages,” Nik complained.
Kors really liked that, in spite of everything, Nik answered him, it was enough to address him and ask a question. Sometimes in monosyllables, but he answered. And it seemed to Kors that even if Nik himself didn’t want this, he seemed to be unable to help answering. Kors didn’t fully understand the reasons for this behavior. Either this was the law of the Demon’s interaction with people, or obedience hammered into the subcortex of Nik’s brain in front of true blacks. But Kors already understood that he had to turn to Nik, call him by name and then ask a question. Then, realizing that the question was asked to him, Nik couldn’t help answering, couldn’t get away. Yes, he could not even continue the conversation, but he couldn’t but answer and not remain silent. And if he said: “Nik, I asked you a question, answer me…” and then asked, Nik, no matter how he evaded before and tried to remain silent or snap back, answered. And he answered truthfully. It even seemed funny to Kors how the Demon always reacted to the appeal to him – “Nik”, clearly without a doubt considering him his name in this world, although Kors himself didn’t like this name very much. It was too short, like most commoners’, consisting of only three letters, and immediately made it clear that Nik was not from the master race. At times, Kors was angry at Arel for calling his son that, a primitive shortening of the name. But Nik himself, unlike Kors, seemed to be happy with everything.
“Take off the bandages!” Kors asked.
“Are you kidding me? For all this to flow onto my chest?” Nik answered irritably, continuing to press his hand to his face. He swore in unclean language, clearly indicating how tired he was of all this.
“Gods…” Kors was discouraged, “forgive me for my stupid treatment. How to stop it now?”
“I don’t fucking know!” Nik opened his mouth, trying to take deep breaths through the gap cut in the bandages. “It’s hard to breathe…”
Kors was really excited. These last warm days were really unbearably stuffy, and Nik, under his bandages, must have had a really hard time.
“Take the rings out of your nose,” said Kors, “they prevent you from breathing normally.”