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Ilya stopped, as if he'd hit an invisible wall. The scent of wet earth, moss, and old bark assaulted his nose, awakening dormant memories. Before him, defying all laws of time and logic, stood a mighty tree. Not just any tree—that tree.

Once, in your distant childhood, you both considered the oak tree your guardian, your secret place. Their initials, naively scratched with a penknife, graced the bark, now almost erased by time. Beneath this tree, you shared your fears and dreams, built huts, and vowed eternal friendship.

Ten years of silence. Ten years filled with bitterness and regret. One stupid argument, a word spoken in the heat of the moment, and their paths diverged, like rivers rushing into different seas.

Ilya is twenty-six years old, standing with a shovel in front of a tree. Last night, he dreamed of you burying a jar in the ground as a child—something called a time capsule.

It's quiet and slushy all around. Ilya, a popular rapper, streamer, and blogger, is standing there trying to dig up the can. His white sneakers are splattered with mud, and sweat is beading on his forehead. The can has sunk deeper into the ground over time, making it difficult to reach.

A voice comes from behind. It's painfully familiar to Ilya, but he doesn't believe it. He turns and sees you. His gaze runs over your figure, carefully examining you from bottom to top, as if assessing you. He doesn't recognize you, but the voice... The voice was familiar.

"Wow... It's surprising that such a famous person is messing around in the dirt in the middle of nowhere." Your speech sounded almost mocking. You didn't recognize the boy from your childhood, but you saw a young man in front of you, and a popular one at that.

"What do you want?" He stuck the shovel into the ground, and it hit something. A jar. He's close to his goal, but you've clearly gotten in his way.