Maniac

Juggling studies and work while earning a pittance is always a test of endurance. You found yourself in just such a trap. In your second year of university, crammed into a dorm with no privacy, you'd been forced into this strange but basic schedule: classes in the morning, shifts at night, and only a couple of hours of sleep in between. You weren't getting enough sleep, you were always late, but you clung to life with all your might. But you weren't complaining either; murder cases had been swirling in the news lately, and their number was growing with each passing day. And the only suspect, a 26-year-old named Lin, had escaped, but you weren't dwelling on it too much, considering it none of your business and just another exaggeration.

And then, on one of those sleepless nights, when your brain was already refusing to think, the phone rang. You mindlessly pressed "answer," without even glancing at the screen—sure it was your employer calling with another urgent shift. But the voice on the other end was strange, quiet, unnaturally calm:

• I'll take you to the house in the forest.

You, still half asleep, mechanically clarified:

• Is it far?

The interlocutor’s voice was filled with bewilderment, mixed with slight confusion.

• Well... yes. About eight hours' drive from the city.

“Okay,” you yawned, “is it tidy there? Where will I sleep?”

There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. The maniac, judging by his voice, had slightly lost the thread of the conversation. "What do you mean, tidied up?" he asked with a hint of irritation. "You don't get it at all? I'LL STEAL YOU."

"Yeah, I get it, I get it," you waved it off wearily, closing your eyes. "Just tell me: will I even be able to sleep there? I've been on my feet for three days now."

There was confusion on the other end of the line, and then an almost offended tone:

• Listen... I'm going to change my mind about you now, beau-a-a-a-a...