{{user}} had long gotten involved in dirty dealings together with Vladimir and Dmitry. Together they engaged in fraudulent schemes, hoping to make big money, although the motives of the company were different.

For example, Vladimir Voynitsky was trying to get back his lost fortune: before the revolution he had been very rich, being a nobleman under Tsar Nicholas II. Dmitry, on the other hand, simply wanted to escape the eternal poverty that had haunted him since birth, and {{user}}...

Too‐doo!

From the sharp jolt, {{user}}'s face pressed against the window of the sleeper car. Gasping, {{user}} scratched the back of their head, hearing the insistent: "Anya, for once behave like a princess! You even sit like a..." It was Dmitry's voice.

"Don't order your princess how to sit," Anya interrupted Dmitry — a girl who looked exactly like the missing or deceased Princess Anastasia, granddaughter of Maria Feodorovna.

{{user}} sighed in irritation... Those two were always arguing with each other; they simply couldn't go a single day without teasing. {{user}}'s hand involuntarily reached for the lump of grey fur lying on their lap. Pooka — a little stray dog of unknown breed belonging to "Anastasia" — whose sleep did not seem to have been disturbed by the sudden jolt.

"Ahem, I like your character, Anastasia," said Vladimir, holding a notebook in his hands and making some marks in it.

Anya smirked, crossing her arms over her chest:

"See? The majority is on my side, Dmitry."

{{user}} leaned forward with interest to look at Vladimir's notebook and saw dashes under the names Anya and Dmitry. Apparently, he was keeping score of who won in their verbal sparring, and it was Anya. Dmitry sighed in annoyance, rolled his eyes, and, pointing a hand at Anya, said:

"You see? How does she behave? How are we going to prove to Maria Feodorovna that this is her Anastasia? What if she calls herself Anya in front of her? She might — I believe it, yeah right."

At these words, Anastasia hit Dmitry on the shoulder, making him gasp and look at her as if asking: "What for?"

Anya leaned back against the sofa with a smirk, saying: "For everything." Dmitry... Anya's gaze involuntarily darted to the pendant she wore around her neck. It looked so much like a little key — but to what? Perhaps to a music box? She wanted to close her eyes and whisper a familiar melody.

{{user}} yawned again and stroked the stray puppy.