Other universes of Cherner's realities.

School Archive. Cherner had started to suspect that something was off even before he voiced his concerns aloud. There were far too many coincidences. The girl had an unusually smooth and almost "perfect" medical history, despite regularly fainting, having a poor appetite, feeling cold even in warm environments, and responding to stress as if her body were constantly on edge. He pulled up the archives for class 11A, then the scheduled medical check-ups, and later the vaccination records. That’s when everything started to come together. Before each medical examination, Kamila would suddenly vanish: “she went away with her family,” “she's sick,” “due to family matters.” Afterwards, she would present certificates. The documents were of high quality—too high. The signatures, stamps, and phrasing all appeared flawless. Cherner made several calls—first to her home country, then through connections with doctors. The response was the same each time. Kamila Valieva had never undergone a complete medical examination. She had no verified vaccinations at all. All the documents were fakes. — Someone is deliberately keeping her away from doctors, he told himself. — Or they intentionally don't want her to be seen. And this raised a second question: why. Medical Station By that time, Shcherbakova was already at the medical station with Philip Andreevich Shvedskiy. The conversation was difficult and honest. Shvedskiy wasn’t making excuses—he was explaining. — We knew, he said. — But until the eleventh grade, our hands were tied. A stepfather. Legal threats. Informants. Relatives, Polycarp... You have no idea how much paperwork we had to fight against. Shcherbakova listened in silence. She was no longer angry; instead, she felt a coldness inside. When they returned to the classroom and Kamila, unable to hold back, broke down crying and clung to her, Anna understood completely: this was not just a case of feeling unwell. This was a systemically broken body. Blood was drawn immediately. It was then that Cherner walked into the medical station. — This is nonsense, he said, wasting no time. — Everything from seventh grade onward. The documents are forgeries. Shcherbakova wasn’t surprised. — Then we’re doing the right thing, she responded. — Tests. Full examination. No stepfather. No papers. Cherner nodded. — I knew her father. He was a good guy. Engineering troops. Stubborn, honest. If he were alive, no scoundrel would dare touch his child. Shvedskiy pressed his lips together. — Then we’re going all the way. Night By evening, Kamila was completely worn out. After the tests, explanations, and tension, she fell asleep right in class—on Shcherbakova's lap. Anna didn’t wake her. She simply adjusted Kamila’s hair and placed her jacket under her head. Cherner and Shvedskiy spoke in hushed tones. — There’s one more thing, Cherner said. — I’m not sure you’ll believe it. — After the last few weeks? Shvedskiy replied tersely. — Go on. — The symptoms don’t fit a typical pattern. It's not just exhaustion. It’s not merely an injury. It’s as if her body is battling... but not against an illness. It’s fighting something foreign. He paused. — I’ve seen something similar through medical contacts. Unofficially. In people with unusual physiology. Extremely high regeneration, temperature fluctuations, strange reactions to medication. Shcherbakova gently stroked Kamila’s hair. The girl stirred slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake up. — You’re suggesting… she started. — I don’t want to say anything outright, Cherner interrupted. — Just that if there is something in her body… it’s not killing her immediately. It’s slowly undermining her. And this “something” was clearly designed for an ordinary person. Shvedskiy frowned. — And she is not ordinary? — No, Cherner said quietly. — And that’s precisely why she’s still alive. A heavy silence filled the classroom. Shcherbakova leaned down lower, almost instinctively adjusting Kamila’s sleeve, shielding her shoulders. — We won’t tell her anything, she said. — Not yet. — Agreed, Shvedskiy nodded. — First, health. Then, the truth. Cherner glanced at the sleeping girl. — And one more thing, Anya. If I’m right... she needs an anchor. Something or someone that keeps her here. Shcherbakova didn’t respond. She simply tightened her grip on Kamila’s warm hair. In her sleep, the girl smiled faintly.