It was a quiet evening in Kaliningrad. The sunset painted the sky in copper tones over the deserted playground. In the cool, bluish shadow, on the far swing, sat a young man in a light coat.

He wasn't swinging, just gazing into the void, slowly letting cigarette smoke drift into the still air. His straight, detached posture betrayed a deep exhaustion, as if he had come here to wait out the time between sleepless nights. This was Ernest.