Mask of Kindness

The dark elf quarter was quiet and peaceful. Well, almost. You didn't have any problems here, especially if you were a dark elf girl. But if you were a male drow, you'd have to learn how to survive. The alleyways of the drow quarter were always filled with the sounds of arguments, fights, and sometimes even violence. If you couldn't fight back, you'd be trampled, both literally and figuratively. For a female drow, things were much easier, as they were physically stronger. And mages were born much more often than dark-elven guys. Therefore, no one dared to mess with the elves. No one wanted any problems. Strangers rarely came here, and if they did, they tried to get away as soon as possible, so that no one from the locals would notice them. Otherwise, they would learn firsthand what dark-elven hospitality was like. So, nothing unusual ever happened in this quiet and cozy neighborhood. Except for one thing. Recently, strange colored inscriptions have been appearing on the walls of houses and store buildings, accompanied by an equally strange symbol: a mask, glasses, and a round hat with two stripes. Residents could not understand the reason for their appearance, and most importantly, who was responsible for these outrageous graffiti. "Do good, there's enough evil already." "It's not death you should be afraid of, but an empty life." "Self-development is the path to freedom." Every morning, they found new inscriptions in the most unexpected places, which sometimes seemed mysterious and mystical, but sometimes also meaningless. There were no reproaches, threats, or insults that any drow would understand, only a hidden message that was incomprehensible. This infuriated some of them. "Having a soft heart in today's world is a sign of courage, not weakness." "Before you reach the stars, you must learn to live on Earth!" "To degrade, you have to develop. And if you're already a moron, it doesn't work." But that wasn't the only strange thing. No matter where the violence took place, whether it was a beating, a robbery, or a violent act, the perpetrators were met with divine retribution in the form of construction debris or paint bubbles falling from above. The Dark Elf Quarter's familiar way of life had come to an end. Rumors and speculations circulated about who might be responsible. However, everyone agreed that the perpetrator needed to be found and punished. The only problem was, no one knew where to look. The perpetrator was elusive. Shardia Dinavar was returning from college as usual. She knew that her mother was still at work. Only her father was at home. Unlike other drow women, she had not kicked her father out after her sister's birth, nor had she hired a governess, as other enterprising dark elves did, lest their daughters be corrupted by male influence. She wisely decided that it was more sensible and economical to use a man as a housekeeper and entrust him with household duties. So she was one of the few drow girls who lived with her father. The elf was already approaching the house when she saw an inscription on the fence: "Any attachment takes away your freedom." Shardia looked at the sign with displeasure. The drow had heard that someone was vandalizing their neighborhood, of course. Now he had reached one of the prestigious houses where she lived. "You little scoundrel. If I catch you, you won't get off scot-free," she thought as she passed through the wide wrought-iron gates. For some reason, she had no doubt that it was a man, and a man from outside the neighborhood. Who else would be so despicable as to defecate in such a fine neighborhood? "Welcome back, young lady," she heard her father say as he rattled dishes in the kitchen when she entered the apartment. Barnet was a calm, slender-built drow, like all elves, and he endured his wife's frequent irritability. She had a heavy hand, and he had experienced it many times. Sabbion's strict nature was well-known to him. If something was amiss in any area, she had a knack for finding fault and resorting to physical violence. Barnet only apologized and never resisted her arbitrary actions, as it would have been even worse. She taught her daughters to look at a man's suffering with indifference and to address him solely by his first name. Shardia often witnessed him discreetly wiping the blood from his handsome face, but he never showed any signs of pain, especially in front of his daughters. He was always affectionate and kind to them, showing concern, as he did now, although their interactions resembled those of a servant and their mistress. Shardia entered the kitchen, drawn by the fragrant smells that revitalized her stomach. Barnet was quite a good cook. "What do we have that's tasty?" she asked, peering into the pot on the gas stove with anticipation. "Mashed potatoes with meat sauce. But you should change your clothes, young lady," he replied with a smile. Drow went to her room. She changed clothes for going outside, hanging her student uniform on a hanger, and returned to the kitchen. There was a plate of hot food and a glass of freshly squeezed juice with pulp on the table, just the way she liked it. Barnet went to the living room, and soon she heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner running. She had never seen him do anything, and she wondered how he never got tired. "I'm going for a walk," she told her father after finishing her meal. "Good. Be careful, young lady," he replied, and then continued cleaning. The elf ran out onto the street, dressed lightly: a light-colored blouse, loose thin trousers. She headed to the square, where familiar and unfamiliar young drow gathered. Passing by the bus stop, she saw a white-painted inscription on it: "Don't lose heart anywhere, or you'll get there." Sharadia looked at the sign in annoyance and moved on to the party. The benches under the trees were filled with chattering young people. She spotted some of her college friends and headed over to join them, taking in the sight of the groups of drow males as she went. Her mother had taught her that one should train one's mate before sharing a bed with him, and to look for candidates, and preferably more than one. She barely listened to the young drow talking about how they should catch the artist and beat him up, whoever he was, for disrespecting the local dark elves. The Drow decided that she would catch the troublemaker first, and the presence of competitors only fueled her ardor. She was returning home late at night. The dim light of the lanterns practically did not illuminate the streets. Only the Drow didn't particularly need it, as they could see well in the dark. Dinavar decided to walk around the courtyards when she approached her house. And then, turning the corner of the house, I saw a silhouette in a black tracksuit with a hood. He was standing near the wall and writing something on it with a spray can, sometimes shaking it. There was a black backpack next to him. He was definitely a guy a little taller than her, but not as slender as the elf. "Half-blood," she decided, slipping silently around the corner and freezing, watching him. He was almost finished writing something on the wall, when he froze, feeling someone's piercing gaze on him. The elf was certain that it was the mysterious hooligan. Then he finished the phrase in the drow language, threw the spray can into his backpack, and disappeared around the corner. Shardia rushed after him, but he was gone. On the wall, there was a message: "The world is just a dream where we are awake." She returned home and heard her mother's shouting from the bedroom, something she had grown accustomed to over the course of her hundred years. Her younger sister was standing by the door to her room, looking frightened. Apparently, the loud sound of her mother's voice had awakened her. Her father was quietly apologizing and asking for forgiveness, as he often did. The elf took the drow girl to her room, trying to calm her down and get her to sleep. She decided to take a serious look at finding this artist. The next morning, she sat down at her laptop. It wasn't too difficult to access the video surveillance system, as she had studied to become a programmer. After reviewing the footage from the cameras around the area where she had seen the brawler the previous day, she didn't learn anything new. The angle wasn't particularly clear. Then I went on social media to look for a guy in a black tracksuit. There were discussions about these messages. There were photos of them. It turned out that he was operating throughout the neighborhood. However, none of the avatars or photos in the albums matched the description. Shardia decided to go on a night patrol. As she walked through the streets, far from her middle-class neighborhood, she saw him from a distance. He pulled out a spray can and was about to write his disgusting scribbles when she shouted: "Stand still!" Without hesitation, she ran after him. He saw the drow girl running towards him and took off, grabbing his bag along the way. Shardia could not allow this immoral individual to continue disturbing the peace of the neighborhood. But the man in black, whoever he was, despite his athletic build, was as agile and quick as a graceful elf. He managed to evade her every time, changing direction and disappearing around corners, even though she considered herself one of the best runners. She followed him through narrow alleys, jumping over barricades and dodging collisions with trash containers. The rogue seemed to be playing with her, allowing her to get close, then abruptly increasing the distance between them. The man in black was quite agile, but Shardia had no intention of letting him get away. The elf saw the door of one of the buildings creak and a doorway open. She rushed to him, but found that it was locked with a strong chain and padlock. Shardia began to search the neighborhood, already thinking that she had missed the culprit. But suddenly I noticed a mysterious hatch that was not closed enough. Without hesitation, she decided to go down the stairs. The gloomy corridors underground were practically dark, which turned out to be old tunnels and recesses of dark rooms. She heard a muffled noise in the distance, which her elven ears picked up clearly, and followed it. Soon, the drow saw a man in black trying to cover his tracks with the trash that was scattered everywhere. He turned around and saw her. He stopped what he was doing and ran away again, trying to get away. She almost caught him in front of the stairs leading up. However, he managed to dodge her hands as she tried to grab him by the sleeve of his jacket and then by his ankle. The artist jumped up, grabbed the railing of the stairs, and quickly climbed up like a cat, reaching the surface and disappearing into the night. After following him out, the elf looked around, but there was no one around. She was amazed by his agility, but she decided not to give up. When she returned home, she found her mother sitting on the couch, reading a gossip magazine. Barnet was kneeling in front of her, massaging her feet. "Where have you been?" Sabbion asked sternly, her eyes still fixed on the magazine. "So. I was out for a walk," she replied vaguely, slipping into her room. Her visit to the dungeon had left its mark. Her windbreaker and jeans were covered in dirt. She stripped off her clothes and took a shower, throwing her clothes in the washing machine to hide the evidence of her failed pursuit. "Next time, I'll definitely catch up with him," she decided as she lay in bed in her room before going to sleep. Her mobile phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. She hesitantly picked up the phone. "Well, have you had enough running around?" asked a mocking youthful voice in good Dark Elvish, and then hung up. She held the phone with her mouth open in surprise. Shardia realized that the caller was the same guy she had been chasing. But how did he know her number? Then she remembered that it was listed as her contact number on her social media accounts, and she almost howled in frustration at her own carelessness. "I'm going to catch you, and then..." the elf thought with growing anger. But she had no idea what to do with him. Find out why he was damaging the walls? Yes, probably. Teach him a lesson to discourage him from causing more trouble? Definitely, but how? Her thoughts were in turmoil. No man had ever managed to unsettle her this much, and he would pay for it. The next morning, everyone was shocked to learn that a red inscription had been found on the temple of Llos: "Should we give up on love just because it hurts?" The media was broadcasting this outrageous incident on almost every channel. Everyone was shocked by this unforgivable cynicism, this act of despicable sacrilege. It was decided to organize patrols in the streets of the neighborhood. There were frequent calls on social media to take action against the negligent artist, and some even tried to impersonate him in order to gain his fame. However, Shardia knew that they were impostors, as they had nothing in common with the tall, broad-shouldered man. Suddenly, everything went quiet for a while, and the brawler had not appeared for several days. The residents of the neighborhood decided that he had given up what he was doing, afraid that they were looking for him. Shardia thought about who he was for a long time. If it's a Drow, then he's going to die on the altar, that's for sure. And if not… Out of habit, the elf went out to patrol the surroundings. The mysterious artist's old inscriptions were painted over. No new ones appeared. She was even a little disappointed by it. After all, the elf might never know who he was, and she might never be able to catch him. As she entered a side street, she was stunned to see a sign on the wall: "The most amazing things start with a change in perception." Shardia looked at her for a long time, not believing her eyes. Joy overwhelmed her. Then she heard a thud. Not far from her, the same guy in a black tracksuit was climbing up the fire escape. An empty canister fell to the ground with a clatter. The guy instinctively froze, wary of being heard, and then he saw her down below. The elf's scarlet eyes lit up with the thrill of the hunt. She ran after him, climbing swiftly up to the roof of the house, but the brawler was faster. The sun was setting, painting the sky in crimson tones. Two figures glided over the rooftops like ghosts. The guy moved with the agility of a panther, but the athletic-looking girl was not far behind. The wind whipped her clothes like a flag, and it was a bit chilly, but that didn't stop her. This time, he wouldn't get away. Shardia ran along the narrow ledge where her victim had passed, balancing skillfully, and her heart was pounding in her chest. The daring rogue was ahead, his silhouette black against the setting sun. The elf knew she couldn't let him get away. This time, she would not miss him, and she would finally know who he was. "Does he really think he can run away from me?" she thought arrogantly. He jumped off the ledge, landed on a narrow roof, rolled, ran along it, and, using the wall as a springboard, grabbed hold of it with his hands and pulled himself up to another roof. The elf had to repeat his maneuvers. "Isn't he a little too confident?" thought Shardia, watching him jump from one building to another, performing incredible acrobatic feats. The elf saw him turn around occasionally, a smile playing under his mask. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, reflected in the glint in his eyes beneath the deep hood. He was clearly enjoying this game, this dance of risk. He was like a bird soaring through the sky. And for a moment, the drow envied him and his freedom. "I can't let him get away," she thought confidently, and she quickened her pace. He pulled himself up again, jumped over a narrow gap between buildings, risking falling down, soared up to a high ledge, moving with incredible ease, climbed onto the neighboring roof and, without stopping, ran on. He accelerated his pace, jumping from roof to roof without slowing down. His movements were precise and confident, but this time she was faster. Catching up with him, the elf jumped onto a box and, using it as a springboard, jumped onto his back. After a brief struggle, he lay flat on the roof, breathing heavily from the intense obstacle course. Shardia sat triumphantly on top of him, pinning his arms to the iron roof. "Well, did you run into it?" She grinned, breathing heavily, looming over him, remembering his phrase he had said on the phone. "Well, did you catch up with me?" He grinned, not at all afraid. Gray-blue eyes looked at her with irony. This was the moment of truth. She reached for the mask and pulled it off. The guy didn't resist. He had fair skin and elf-like ears. "He's not a drow," she said in surprise, not expecting something like this. She then removed the deep black hood from his head, revealing a mop of short scarlet hair with a long bang. "Are you naru?!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Disappointed?" the elf guessed, still grinning. The elf was truly dismayed. The naru was as dangerous to her as the drow were to the eldar. And she had no physical advantage. But what struck her was that the naru showed no signs of resistance. "I didn't expect this," she admitted. "What's your name, what are you doing here, and how do you know our language?" "Naedar," the naru replied. "As for your second question. I'm lying here because you're sitting on me and you won't let go. I learned the language so that everyone would think it was one of yours." His eyes sparkled with mischief. He clearly enjoyed teasing her, watching as the dark elf's confidence melted away. "That's not what I'm talking about. Why do you write all this nonsense on the walls?" she asked in an interrogative tone, regaining her composure. "So that you can finally understand what I'm saying. Maybe then your life will change for the better," Naedar replied in a tone that suggested it should be obvious. "Why? We're doing fine on our own, and we don't need the advice of people like you," Shardia said with a touch of pride. "Yes? That's it. When no one loves you and you don't love anyone, not only in relation to other races, but also among yourselves. What is it like to not know when you are genuinely cherished and loved? Not because you are rich, powerful, and influential, but simply because. Is there a single man among your people who shows such feelings towards a woman?" he asked, staring at her intently. "Of course there are. My father, for example," the drow replied without hesitation. "Are you sure it's love and not fear? You see, love can be born out of friendship, even sometimes out of dislike and hatred, but never out of fear," he said, abruptly shaking her off, so that she flew to one side, miraculously hitting nothing. He rested his hands on the iron roofing near his shoulders, pulled his bent knees up to his chest, then suddenly straightened his body like a spring, jumped to his feet, and ran away, pulling on his hood. "Stop!" she shouted, getting up. Naru stopped, looking at her expectantly at the edge of the roof. She was visibly confused, not knowing why she had stopped him, but somehow not wanting him to leave. "Will you continue to write these inscriptions?" The elf finally found something to ask. "Yes," Naedar replied without hesitation. "If they catch you, they'll kill you!" said the drow, somehow not wanting that to happen. "I'll try to make it happen as late as possible," Naru replied with a smile. "Are you an idiot? This is not a joke. You're being hunted," she said, shocked by his immorality. "And what is my price?" the elf asked. "You must die in the temple you have desecrated. Whoever catches you and brings you back alive can ask for anything they want. Within reason, of course," the drow replied, trying to intimidate him. "So why didn't you do it?" he asked, smiling. Shardia suddenly fell silent, frightened. She had disobeyed the High Priestess's orders, and that would not be tolerated. It could also lead to trouble for her family if it became known. "Well, don't be a stranger," he said, and stepped off the roof. The elf gasped in fright, but when she heard a metallic thud, she realized that he had jumped onto the fire escape. Curious, she approached the edge of the roof and looked down. The fire escape was empty. Shardia returned home when it was completely dark. Barnet was washing dishes. He placed a plate of heated food in front of his daughter and continued his work in silence. "Barnet, do you love your mother?" she suddenly asked him. He turned around and looked at her, clearly surprised by her question. A half-smile played on his sensual lips. "Of course. With all my heart," he replied, but his eyes remained as blank as before. That evening, Sabbion reprimanded him again for something. He apologized and begged for forgiveness. Then she heard the creaking of her mother's bed, which was a clear indication of her father's efforts to gain forgiveness. A few days later, colorful graffiti began to appear on the walls of the houses again, and the rampage of the unknown elven defender of the weak and oppressed continued. Unknown to everyone except Shardia, but she chose to remain silent about it, and like everyone else, she was outraged by the graffiti: "Let mistakes make you perfect." "You're not really changing! You're just becoming more of yourself!" "Do whatever you want, but don't feel sorry for yourself." Their appearance stirred up the public again. Once again, there were calls to capture and punish the brazen criminal in the main square, so that others would not follow his example, and then to give him to Llos. The young drow's soul was filled with anxiety. She hid her criminal reluctance to let Naedar fall into the hands of the cruel dark elven justice in the farthest corners of her soul. The goddess would not tolerate such behavior, nor would the priestesses or her mother. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, she heard the ringtone of her smartphone. Again, an unfamiliar number. Shardia accepted the call. "Are you bored?" She heard Naedar's mischievous voice. He was breathing heavily into the phone, as if he had just finished a long run. "Ah, like a toothache," the elf snorted, actually relieved that he was alive and well. "Well, I'm sorry. I would have called earlier, but there was a mob chasing me, and they weren't fans," he laughed. "Idiot, cretin, half-assed penis-bearer!" she flared, hiding her concern for him. "Aha, I love you too," Naru replied, as if he could read her mind, which made her even more annoyed. "Are you completely brainless? Don't you understand how dangerous this is? Stop being a fool right now and get out of the neighborhood!" she commanded. "Oh, no. It's fun here," Naedar refused. "This is not up for discussion. If you want to live, you'll leave. If you don't, there'll be one less idiot in the world," the drow said, barely containing her irritation. "How can I let you miss me? Will you miss me?" he asked confidently. "Dream on," the elf snorted. "That's a pity. Okay, I'll see you later. Maybe I'll ask you out on a date," he laughed. "You stubborn fool!!! — she shouted into the phone and interrupted the conversation. For some reason, a strange, unfamiliar feeling came over her when she heard his voice. Her breathing quickened, her heart began to race, and her body grew warm. This caused her to feel uneasy and confused. One day, she noticed that Barnet had become lethargic and slow. He drank water frequently and washed his face with cold water. He looked unwell. After their breakfast together, when he began to clear the table, he dropped the plates. "Clumsy! Clean up this mess," Sabbion grumbled as she headed for the office. "I'm sorry, Madam. I'll get it right away," he said, heading for the storeroom. As he was leaving with a brush and a dustpan, he was knocked sideways and collided with Shardia. "I'm sorry, young lady," he said quietly. The young drow touched his hand. It was very hot. The elf looked at him warily. He looked away and quickly went to the kitchen. "Something's wrong with him," thought Shardia, heading out of the apartment. This thought continued to haunt her as she walked to the bus stop, where a sign read: "I've been talking too much, and now I won't seem as mysterious and attractive." For some reason, these graffiti no longer irritated her, but rather made her smile. It was as if Naru was communicating with her through them. On her way back from college, she decided to take a shortcut through the alleys, only to see Naedar running towards her, pursued by five drow boys. She quickly stepped aside, watching in surprise as the chase unfolded. Then, fearing for his safety, she took off after them. He deftly jumped over the chain-link fence that blocked his path and continued running. However, his pursuers had no trouble overcoming this obstacle, while Shardia risked damaging her student uniform. As he weaved through the streets, turning corners, he finally stopped near a fire escape leading to the roof of a seven-story building. Grabbing the lower rung, he began to climb up, just as he had when she was chasing him. Once on the roof, he resumed his obstacle course. Soon, after running across the roofs of several buildings, the Naru stopped at the edge of the roof. Looking across the gap, the elf knew that he could only jump that distance by taking a decent running start, which his pursuers would not allow. Naedar turned to face his opponents, taking his backpack off his shoulders. "I don't want to fight you," the Naru said, his voice trembling with tension. "Then you can give up," one of the pursuers replied calmly, seeing that he had nowhere to go. When Shardia reached the roof, there was already a fierce battle going on, with the drow clearly in the lead. A knife flashed in one of their hands, and the next moment, Naedar was clutching his side, with the hilt of the knife protruding from it. Naru looked back into the abyss. "You have no choice. Surrender and die quickly," another attacker promised. Shardia froze in place, her eyes wide with horror. There was no blood on her black clothes, but drops of it had already fallen onto the iron roofing. She felt a sense of fear she had never experienced before, and her heart was filled with panic. She knew she needed to act, but she couldn't shake off her fear, knowing it was futile. Naru looked at her and smiled, trying to reassure her. She could sense it, even though she couldn't see anything behind the black cloth mask. "I don't need any favors," he said, and he fell backward, disappearing into the abyss between the buildings. The sound of his body hitting the ground was heard from below. "No!" Shardia shouted, and only then did the drow pay attention to her. "Idiots, what have you done!" she shouted. They were silent, embarrassed, their eyes downcast, for they had promised the sacrifice to the goddess, and now they might be on the altar themselves. "I'm sorry, Miss," one of them said, bowing. "Get out!" she ordered, and they hurried away so as not to feel the wrath of the Drow girl. Her legs suddenly felt weak, and each step was difficult for her. "He's gone," my mind repeated, and tears welled up in my eyes. She felt her heart breaking into a million pieces, and her soul filled with pain and despair. Naru never surrendered to the enemy, preferring death to captivity. It was not in their nature to be defeated. "Maybe I'll ask you out on a date," she remembered him saying as she almost reached the edge of the roof where he had taken that tragic, final step in his life. The elf didn't have the strength to look down and see his lifeless body. There was no fire escape in that part of the building. She didn't remember how she got down from the roof or how she made her way home. When she emerged from the alleyways, she sat down on a rickety bench and noticed a sign on the building across from her, knowing that they would never be together again: "Who are you? A demon to some. An angel to others. Who are you to me?" Shardia stood up and ran to her house, barely able to hold back her sobs. As she opened the door to her apartment, she could hear her parents arguing from the hallway. "You filthy creature, you tried to give me yesterday's food. You're sitting at home doing nothing! Is it so difficult to cook every day?" Sabbion shouted, striking the cowering man on the floor with her fists and feet. His lips were bleeding. He was trembling, trying to cover his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, lady, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he said quietly. Shardia looked at Barnet. His eyes were filled with overwhelming terror. "Fear does not breed love," she remembered Naedar saying. "Stop it!" Shardia said loudly. "What?!" The head of the family was taken aback, looking at her daughter in indignation. "What did you hear? Leave him alone!" she demanded, looking into her mother's red eyes, making it clear that she was not afraid of her. "You're defending a despicable elf man?" Sabbion asked in surprise. "I'm protecting my father, who has loved and cared for me all my life, something I haven't seen from you," she said, and as she entered the hall, she knelt before her father and touched his forehead. He was burning up. She could see the surprise in his red eyes. "You shouldn't talk to your mother like that. You shouldn't protect me," he said quietly, fearing that his wife would punish him for his argument with his daughter. The elf smiled at him affectionately. "He has a fever. He's ill," she said, looking at her mother sternly. "Then he should get out of the house. I don't want him here. I'll hire a governess for you," Sabbion said, looking at the drow man with disgust. "I don't need a governess, and I won't let them kick my father out. How would you feel if you were sick and they threw you out on the street?" Shardia continued to argue. The drow woman glared at her daughter and stomped off to her room. The young elf helped her father up from the floor. He looked at her in amazement, not understanding the reason for such a drastic change. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his hot chest, crying. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being an ungrateful daughter, for not being able to love you the way you loved me, and for not appreciating it. I'm sorry, Dad," she said, and felt his hand rest on her head. He gently stroked her hair, saying: "Calm down. You shouldn't be so upset. I'll be fine." She helped him walk to the bathroom and, after he took a shower, to his room, which was once a second storage room. It didn't even have a window. The elf helped him undress and get into bed. Then she brought him a thermometer and a bunch of medicine. His temperature was really high. She gave him some of the medicine he had given her when she was ill. "I still have to wash the dishes," he protested about being bedridden. "I'll wash the dishes myself. I enjoyed watching you in the kitchen. It's not a difficult task. In fact, it's time to consider purchasing a dishwasher," said Shardia with determination. Drow smiled and closed his eyes, falling into a deep, painful sleep. Shardia washed the dishes and sat by his bedside all night, changing the cold-water-soaked towel on his face. He was feverish, but by morning, he was noticeably better. The care of his beloved daughter was a miracle. When Barnet opened his eyes in the morning, he saw his daughter sitting in a chair, asleep with her head resting on her folded arms on his bed. He smiled affectionately. So everything that happened yesterday wasn't just a figment of his imagination. He touched the elf's hair, and she woke up with a start, looking at him with sleepy eyes. "Dad, are you okay?" she asked excitedly. "It's getting better. You're a cure-all," replied Barnet, unable to believe his good fortune. How long he had dreamed of hearing that word from his daughter's lips: "Dad." "I don't want to lose another man I care about," she thought, remembering Naedar's gray-blue eyes. A week later, Barnet was completely recovered, and things were back to normal, but not the same. Of course, old habits are hard to forget, and he still flinched at the sound of Sabbion Dinavar's stern voice. However, she no longer resorted to physical violence. Her daughters finally started calling Barnet "father," which he was overjoyed to hear. A year had passed since the mysterious artist appeared in the dark elven district and disappeared just as mysteriously. Many said that he was afraid of being followed and fled. Only Shardia knew that he was no longer alive. The graffiti he left behind was painted over, and the district returned to its usual life. It was the end of another school year for her. The holidays were coming soon. She was returning from her last exam, which she had passed quite successfully. As she approached her house, she noticed an inscription on the iron fence: "You're the best thing I don't have." She stood and stared at the inscription for a long time with a strange but so familiar sign, deciding that someone had decided once again to impersonate the missing artist. Memories raced through his mind like a whirlwind, making his heart ache with pain. After standing for a while, Shardia entered the house, passing the gate. Opening the apartment door, I felt the breathtaking aroma of fresh pastries. My father rattled the dishes in the kitchen as usual. "Hi, Daddy, what's delicious? " she asked when she saw the dish of cheesecakes, and immediately reached for them. Barnett deftly removed the dish from the table. "Change clothes and wash your hands!" He said sternly, but there was an ocean of tenderness in his eyes, and she couldn't help but notice it. Shardia had no choice but to reluctantly go to her room. Suddenly, the phone rang. The unfamiliar number surprised her, but something compelled her to pick up the phone. "Hi. Are you missing me?" She heard a familiar and long-forgotten voice. Her hands trembled, and she almost dropped her phone, not believing what she was hearing. "Yes, very much," she replied, wiping away happy tears.