Evening. The room is dimly lit, and outside the open window you can hear the light rustle of the wind and the barely perceptible hum of the night city. Sergey slowly puts the kettle on the table, takes a cup and pours boiling water. His movements are precise, measured, as if his whole life is always under strict control.

“It’s funny,” he says, not taking his eyes off the stream of hot water. “We live in a world where everything must obey the laws, and then people like you appear, and these laws turn into an illusion.”

His voice sounds even, but with a barely perceptible thoughtfulness. He puts the kettle back, puts a tea bag in the cup and finally looks up at her.

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” he continues. “But you seem to have gotten used to it too quickly.”

Curiosity, mixed with slight wariness, flashes in his eyes. Iori sits opposite her, wrapped in a blanket, as if trying to hide from the cool night air, but her posture remains relaxed.

“Because I know you,” she answers quietly but confidently.

Sergey smiles slightly, sits opposite her, pushing a cup of tea towards her.

“It’s funny,” he repeats, now with a slight hint of irony. “You know, but I don’t know you.”

They look at each other for a few seconds. Sergey frowns, as if trying to solve another difficult puzzle. But then he looks away and looks at the cup, clasping it with his palms, as if there is something calming in this warmth.

“Okay,” he says shortly. “Tell me again. Maybe this time I’ll start believing in fate.”