Other universes of Cherner's realities.

**September 3** **07:35** Kamilia woke up abruptly from another nightmare. She lay there for a few seconds, not moving, trying to figure out why she was being called *Dorn's niece* in this dream, and why she had been so insistently ordered to wake up—immediately, without delay. Her phone was lying nearby, and the screen lit up— **30% battery**. Kamilia blinked and sat up abruptly. There were still **twenty-five minutes** before class started. She jumped out of bed and was about to run to the bathroom, but a sudden pain in her thigh made her stop. It was sharp and familiar, and Kamilia remembered everything—the previous evening, her hands, and the automaticity that always made her feel ashamed and empty. Her vision blurred, and she let out a sob. Her legs gave way, but she didn't fall—as if something was holding her up. Then she heard the voice again. It was deep, unfamiliar, and male. — **Get up, Dorn's niece. Don't you dare cry. Imperial Fists don't cry.** Kamilia opened her eyes abruptly, her heart racing. The pain was gone, as if it had never existed. — Magic...— she thought almost silently, already standing at the sink. Her thigh was whole, with no trace of the injury. She quickly washed her face, packed her belongings, made a brief note in her diary about the nightmare and what happened afterward, and quietly stepped out into the hallway. Laughter and the clinking of glasses could be heard from the kitchen. Her parents were drinking with their friends, as they often did. Kamilia put on her shoes as quietly as possible and left the apartment without taking her keys. She decided to spend the night at Kostornaya's place, or wherever she could find a place to stay. It wouldn't be the first time. The key was to avoid returning to a place where the night would drag on endlessly. --- She made it to school on time. Almost. While she was changing her shoes, she lost a few minutes. She looked up at the schedule and froze. **The first lesson was chemistry.** Kamilia ran to the right floor and stopped in front of the classroom. She took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and entered. "Sorry for being late, can I come in?" Anna Stanislavovna Shcherbakova looked at her coldly. The class fell silent. Dasha Usacheva was about to drop something to distract the teacher. Adelia also tried to distract Shcherbakova by waving her hand and loudly repeating that she knew the answer. Kostornaya slapped her forehead, muttering, "Kamilia, are you crazy? Anna Stanislavovna will kill you." Frolova decided to make a dramatic gesture by jumping up and down, but there was no reaction from Shcherbakova. She was focused on Valieva. Everyone was waiting for the usual explosion, but it never came. "Why are you late?" she asked calmly. Kamilia ran through all the possible excuses in her head—the elevator, traffic, and the bus—and suddenly said the truth: "The battery died. The alarm didn't work." Shcherbakova nodded. "Valieva, take a seat. Frolova, two points for your behavior." Kamilia sat down and looked at Frolova with guilt. Her phone vibrated. "It's okay, Kami. It's not the first time. You should have seen what Alyona and I did in biology when that crazy old lady made you have a nervous breakdown and cry." Kamilia quickly typed "thank you" and tried to listen to the lesson. However, Anna Stanislavovna's words sounded distant and unreal to her. Only when the topic turned to the oxidation of iron did Kamilia start writing. Lines appeared in her notebook that were not part of the explanation. In her notebook, there was a short phrase: **"Beware of the Plague Watch."** Alyona Kostornaya watched her out of the corner of her eye and thought, *Interesting... The memory of one's ancestors is a powerful thing.* --- When the lesson was over, Shcherbakova said that those who wanted to take the chemistry exam could stay. There were three students left in the classroom. Shcherbakova looked at them carefully. Kondratyuk was an excellent student. Kostornaya was absent-minded but capable. And there was Valieva. "Valieva, why did you stay?" Kamilia forced herself to say, "I want to take the chemistry exam." Shcherbakova raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Repeat it." "I want to take the chemistry exam." Her response was firm. - no. You're not doing well in school. You barely have a B in chemistry. It's pointless. Camila pressed her lips together. "I'll try my best. I'll get my grades up." - no. The words cut her. And then, almost without realizing what she was saying, Kamilah blurted out: “If you can’t see it, go to the optician and get glasses.” The classroom was empty. Kamilah ran out. Alena followed her, but Valieva had already disappeared. --- In the bathroom, Kamilah locked herself in a stall and started crying. Her movements were mechanical. A pencil case. A knife. Then came the pain, too sharp. She realized she didn’t have anything to treat the wound. The thought of her next class, English, made her freeze. Medvedeva would notice. The nurse’s office. Questions. *No.* She found wet wipes in her backpack, applied one, gritted her teeth, wiped the blood, and threw it in the trash. She washed her face, looked in the mirror, and smiled as best she could. When she came out, Shcherbakova was standing in the doorway with empty mugs. Their eyes met. "Anya, are you coming?" Zagitova's voice rang out. Shcherbakova didn't say a word. Her gaze was brief and cold: *later.* Kamila ran away. Shcherbakova entered the bathroom and noticed a bloody wad of tissue in the trash. She retrieved it and put it in her pocket. She thought, *The blood is fresh... And Valieva didn't just look scared.* In English class, Kamila sat quietly, pretending everything was fine. In the teachers' lounge, Shcherbakova was talking about "the advice to visit an optometrist." Cherner laughed, clearly amused by Valieva's vision, and Evgeny Semenenko joined in. Eteri Tutberidze quickly ended the conversation. After class ended, Kostornaya said with a laugh:— Kamysh, Stanislavovna just went berserk after your words. And by the way, we have chemistry on Friday. You wanted to take the exam yourself. Trusova looked at Valieva in surprise.: "Wait... did you really tell her to go to the optometrist?" Camila nodded silently. "You shut her up so much," Sasha grinned, "that even Stanislavovna didn't scream." Camila thought about it. She hadn't planned this. The phrase came out on its own, as if someone had pushed it from the inside. And now, remembering Shcherbakova's expression, Camila felt neither victory nor relief. Just a strange emptiness. But I couldn't think for long. Alyona was right: chemistry was back on Friday, Anna Stanislavovna was angry, and Camila didn't understand at all what to do next. "Let's go for a walk,— Kostornaya suggested, as if interrupting disturbing thoughts. After some thought, Valieva and Trusova agreed. They wandered around the surrounding parks for a long time, went into shops, picked out nonsense — chips, sweet soda, something salty. We sat on benches, discussed nonsense, and laughed. Not because it was fun, but because it made it easier not to think about school, teachers, and tomorrow. At some point, Camila found herself almost not listening to the conversation. She watched the sky darken, the lanterns come on, and the people walking by—ordinary, calm, as if they didn't have a constant noise inside. At 19:00, Alyona threw away the empty bag and sighed: —Okay, girls. It's time to go home. Sasha nodded and said she had to go too. They hugged each other—quickly, as usual, but tightly. Kostornaya went to the right — to the bus stop. Trusova — turn left, towards the metro. And Camila went where she wanted to go. Definitely not home. She walked for a long time: through the park, courtyards, quiet streets. The city gradually subsided, the sounds became muffled, the footsteps became slower. She stopped in one of the quiet neighborhoods with new buildings. It was unusually quiet here. Almost right. Camila sat down on a bench in the courtyard and looked around — no one. She took out a half-empty pack of cigarettes and lit one. She couldn't remember exactly when she started. All I knew was that it had something to do with my father. Someone who was no longer there, but who was still present in her thoughts too often. Camila took a drag and exhaled smoke into the cool evening air. Thoughts flowed slowly, without form. About Friday. About chemistry. About Anna Stanislavovna's gaze — attentive, cold, as if she saw more than she showed. Camila didn't know that there was a chemistry teacher living in the house across the street, right above this courtyard.That's the one.The one who was sent to the optometrist today.