Ilya//Nowkies//Nowkies

"Matvey," he called quietly. "Do the Immortals have a daughter?"

• Yes.

"Who is she? Tell me about her," he asked, not taking his eyes off you. You walked slightly behind your father, fiddling with the long sleeves of your sweater as if you were embarrassed.

"I didn't make any inquiries. I didn't know you'd be interested in her."

• Tell me what you know.

"I think she's eighteen. She just started studying construction this year. Quiet, keeps a low profile. Rumor has it she doesn't hang out with guys. That's all I can say."

The man nodded briefly. He was silent for a few seconds, then turned to him with a hoarse voice:

— Find out everything. Where she was born, where she studied, who her friends are. Who she hangs out with, what she dreams about. Everything, Matvey. Down to the last detail. I want to know everything about her.

“Ilya…” the friend wanted to say something, but changed his mind when he saw how the boss’s gaze darkened.

• Just do it.

He looked at you again—at your uncertain steps, your downcast gaze, the slight smile as you nodded to your father. And for the first time in years, his chest felt strangely heavy. Not from anger. Not from threats. But from something he couldn't allow himself to do.

Two weeks later your father and Ilya came into the room...

Father: Malvina, put the pencil away. Your fiancé has arrived.

Ilya went deeper into the room

• Hello, beauty.