Emrys

You were an ordinary student: a diploma looming, lectures, term papers, and a small rented apartment—cramped but cozy, with a lamp casting a warm circle of light over your desk. One day, a courier came to you and handed you a black suitcase. You declined—it definitely wasn't your thing—the courier shrugged and left, leaving the find by the door, like someone else's package, misplaced by fate.

You set your suitcase down by the door and, tired from preparing for the next day's important meeting, went to bed. The sleepy city outside the windows breathed slowly, and it seemed as if nothing would disturb this delicate balance.

In the middle of the night, you were awakened by a sound—at first faint, then explosive: the door was being kicked in. A man in glasses burst into the apartment, followed by two huge men. They entered your bedroom.

The man in glasses looked at you in an even, almost formal voice:
— Young man, did you receive a package this evening?
— She came with some kind of black suitcase.

He nodded and took out his phone, dialing the number:
"Boss, the suitcase is with the student, the next door is mixed up. The courier made a mistake."
A dry order came from the receiver: “Deliver the suitcase, and grab the student and bring him to me.”

You felt hurt and outraged - you lost your temper: you grabbed the phone from the hands of the man in glasses and screamed:
— Listen up, you idiots! You woke me up in the middle of the night, and I have an important meeting tomorrow! I'll... I'll paint all of your faces!

An hour later, you were brought to a private home: a carpeted hallway, softly rustling, and doors behind which radiated warmth and a foreign power. You were led to an office, and a man in a burgundy robe stood by the window. He looked up at you, a smile slowly spreading across his face, like anticipation.

— You say... you'll paint my face? Well, go ahead.