Zeilendorf smiled broadly from beneath his mustache, radiating the impression of someone who undoubtedly towered over others. He looked as if he had planned everything meticulously from the start and was now savoring the satisfaction of events unfolding exactly as he had intended. His wide grin emphasized his confidence and the control he now wielded, suggesting that his success was the result of careful strategy and patient execution.
Behind him, soldiers of the TDP in black uniforms appeared from all directions. They raised their rifles toward the traitors, awaiting further instructions from their commander.
- It's a pleasure to see you again - Zeilendorf said. - Your boss has been worried about you. You haven't shown up at work for a week. He wanted to fire you after three days, but I spoke on your behalf and assured him I would try to set things right.
Ferrick felt weak, as did Garlos. He braced himself against the metal wall of the elevator, silently staring at his tormentor. His breathing was deep and labored.
- As you know, I am not a man with an abundance of time - Zeilendorf continued, adjusting his long black hair. - I rarely concern myself with the transgressions of Trivara's citizens, but your case was different. You have a unique character, in my view. It has merely been hidden from this world.
- What are you talking about? - Ferrick finally spoke, struggling to catch his breath.
Zeilendorf burst into laughter, as if something had truly amused him, then raised his arms above his head, as if celebrating his superiority. He spun around, reveling in the moment, then turned back to Ferrick with a strange, cold smile.
- The thing is, this world is a pasture for trash—people fit only for hard labor. They exist solely to serve us, the chosen ones. There is nothing remarkable about them. To me, they are mere tools, pawns on a chessboard. Let me tell you something more. The other day, as I walked through those factories, I looked upon the workers with disdain. I enjoyed taking away their hard-earned money. It was a real pleasure. I despise them completely. I see them as insects, undeserving of anything more.
Ferrick struggled to contain his rising fury, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic. Zeilendorf's words cut deeper than anything before, but he was afraid to voice his anger.
- However - Zeilendorf continued, maintaining his cold, arrogant tone - Your case was different. I don't know why, but you truly impressed me. You are the only one in my entire career who has dared to raise his voice against me. That is something rare in this world. You possess something absolutely unique, something that sets you apart from all the others. Finally, something unexpected happened in this dreadfully dull, monotonous place. Something that broke the routine and gave a bit of meaning to this bleak reality! - he exclaimed.
The air grew heavier with each passing second. Tension filled the space, uncertainty lingering in the atmosphere. It was unclear where this entire conversation was leading. Everything that was happening seemed vastly different from what had originally been planned. This was meant to be something new, something that would inaugurate a completely different chapter. A new beginning. And now... everything seemed to be slipping out of control.
- You're a monster - Ferrick said softly, almost in a whisper.
- I know - Zeilendorf replied, a slight smile on his face. - But doesn't that make me better than the rest? - he added, clearly pleased with his own response. "This entire setup was primarily orchestrated to capture enemies of the state, but when I met you, I knew I had to draw you into it. This is no coincidence.
From behind, Garlos noticed that Zeilendorf was moving his hands excessively, as if he himself was no longer sure of what was happening around him. Or perhaps, on the contrary—he knew exactly what was happening and took pride in his dominance, as if the entire situation was his creation, with him standing at the top.
At that moment, their eyes met. Zeilendorf paused for a moment, as if the rest of the world had vanished, and only this singular moment held any significance. He glanced at his soldiers and made a strange hand gesture. Immediately, they sprang into action, grabbing their enemies by the throat. Garlos was ruthlessly thrown at Zeilendorf's feet, while Ferrick was shoved against the elevator doors. The entire scene unfolded in an instant, as if it were part of a meticulously choreographed performance.
- Like in some kind of show, Mr. Ferrick! - Zeilendorf shouted once more, then swiftly drew a revolver from his jacket and pressed it against Garlos's head. - I'm so very curious about what you'll do. How you'll react. It's fascinating.
Garlos was paralyzed with fear. He was afraid to even move, his throat tightening so much that he couldn't utter a single word. He sobbed quietly, casting desperate glances at Ferrick through his tears, as if searching for some glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Ferrick remained silent. He lay on the cold floor, motionless, observing everything. When he tried to get up, he suddenly felt a brutal blow to his head. His body collapsed back down, and a moment later, a heavy boot pressed against his throat, pinning him completely. It was Malvin. He stood over him with a sense of superiority, looking at Ferrick with pure contempt, as if he had long been waiting for this moment to finally end this farce. There was no hesitation in his eyes—only cold determination.
- Tell me everything you're feeling right now. Every thought in your head. Sadness, anger, rage... - Zeilendorf spoke almost melodically, savoring each syllable. - I want to know every emotion you have. How do you feel, knowing that you're about to lose yet another important person in your life?
Lying on the ground, Ferrick thrashed desperately, trying to break free, but Malvin held him down firmly, pressing his throat with the weight of his boot. Unable to move, he began to scream, as if hoping someone would hear him.
- Help! Help! - His voice echoed, but only silence responded.
Zeilendorf laughed again, but this time quietly, almost gently. After a moment, however, he stopped, and his face took on a serious expression. His eyes, once full of amusement, were now cold and piercing.
- I will give you one last chance to fascinate me again - Zeilendorf announced, pulling a few bullets from his pocket.
With precision and calm, he reloaded his weapon, as if it were nothing more than a daily ritual. The metallic sound of the mechanism echoed through the heavy silence.
- Surprise me.
Ferrick screamed at the top of his lungs until his voice became hoarse and trembling. His throat burned from the excessive strain, and tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the scene before him. His entire body refused to obey, drained of strength and hope. Somewhere deep in his mind, a thought flickered—this had to be just a nightmare. That he would wake up any moment now. That this couldn't be real.
- Let him go - he ordered Malvin.
Malvin lifted his foot, releasing Ferrick from his merciless grip. Yet the man still lay motionless, not even attempting to rise. His breath was heavy, his body trembling, each inhale and exhale a battle for survival. He looked as if he could barely function, as if his strength had been completely depleted. His eyes were clouded, staring into the void, as though his mind still couldn't grasp the horror of the situation.
- Get up! What are you waiting for?! - Zeilendorf shouted. - If you stand up now and hit me in the face, I promise I'll let you and him go free. Do something, for God's sake!
He lay there, crying, his quiet sobs drowning in the heavy, tense air. He couldn't move, as if his entire body had succumbed to paralysis. He was frozen in fear. What was happening? What was this all about? His thoughts swirled chaotically, frenzied and disjointed. This couldn't end like this. And yet he lay there—helpless, lost, more terrified than ever before.
Garlos gazed at his friend, his eyes filled with a desperate, pleading expression. He couldn't utter a single word, but Ferrick didn't need to hear them to understand. He was begging for help.
After a long moment filled with shouts and sobs, Zeilendorf finally turned his gaze to Ferrick. His face showed growing irritation. His eyes narrowed, and the smirk that had previously played on his lips vanished without a trace. He was angry. No—furious. But beneath that fury lurked something else. Disappointment. As if he had expected more. As if he had been waiting for a spectacle, something to captivate him, but instead had received the pathetic sight of a broken man.
- I am disappointed... Just like your wife was when she died in your arms - Zeilendorf remarked.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Loud, deafening, slicing through the tense air like a blade. The echo bounced off the nearby buildings, spreading throughout the area. Then came silence. Dead, suffocating, crushing. Every onlooker froze in place, holding their breath as if time itself had stopped. Only the smoke rising from the barrel of the gun testified that it had really happened.
Ferrick looked at Garlos's lifeless body. His head was covered in blood, which splattered onto the ground, forming a dark stain. The sight left no doubt—he was dead.
- You have no right to call yourself a human being - Zeilendorf said.
The scenery began to shift, and unwanted memories resurfaced like an old wound that had never healed. Ferrick saw Elena dying in his arms. She was emaciated, her face almost devoid of life. She had fought bravely, though she knew it was futile. She wore a white nightgown that now seemed too loose on her frail body. Her long, dark hair partially draped over Ferrick's hands as he held her helplessly. He felt her faint, uneven breath, as if with each passing moment, she was fading away. Her eyes, though exhausted, still held the last remnants of hope.
- Donnie, I think I'm dying - Elena whispered weakly.
Ferrick said nothing, only pressed himself closer to her, feeling the warmth slowly leaving her body. This was the moment—the moment when he would finally find peace and a better life. At last, something would change. Her entire fortune would pass to him, and he would finally have everything he had always lacked. He would prove to his parents that he was worth something, that he wasn't the failure they had always believed him to be. He gazed at Elena, feigning sorrow, though in his heart, he felt something entirely different.
- I'm scared - she said, tears in her eyes.
The man gently pulled Elena away from his embrace, allowing her to look at him—and himself to look at her. For a moment, he hesitated. Maybe because of a flicker of guilt, or maybe because he feared seeing something in her eyes that he didn't want to acknowledge. But now, it no longer mattered. She had to know the truth.
- I hate you - Ferrick said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. - I despise you every single day. Your pathetic optimism, your dreams. Did you really think this was love? No. I was with you only for the money. For a better reputation.
He swallowed hard, as if words briefly escaped him. Maybe because of the shadow in her eyes, maybe because of her trembling breath, which had once seemed so strong. But what did it matter now? He looked at her one last time.
- I never loved you.
Returning to the present, Ferrick stared at his friend's lifeless body, covered in dirt and dust. Something inside him shattered. Suddenly, he screamed—louder than ever before. The cry tore from his soul, raw and filled with agony. He thrashed on the ground, clawed at his throat, as if trying to occupy his hands with something—anything—to keep from feeling the unbearable emptiness. Tears streamed down his dirt-streaked face, and his legs gave out beneath him, refusing to hold him up. He could do nothing. He was too weak. Everyone had been right. He had no right to call himself a human being.
Zeilendorf watched it all with contempt, as if observing a childish play. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair before tucking his gun back inside his brown coat. His fingers began to twitch in rhythm with his thoughts, until at last, he broke the silence with an empty, cold voice.
- Mr. Ferrick, the worst part of all this is... - He paused, his expression darkening.
He strode briskly toward Ferrick, then crouched beside him, looking him straight in the eyes. A single tear escaped down his cold, unfeeling face.
- In the end, this day was not special to me at all.- Zeilendorf leaned in close, whispering into Ferrick's ear. - Just another day.
Ferrick closed his eyes, his lips murmuring lies—quiet, unconvincing. He had no strength left for anything. Nothing mattered anymore. He had failed Elena and Garlos, and now he couldn't even find the words to make it right. Inside, there was only emptiness, and all his past promises and dreams had shattered into pieces.
Zeilendorf straightened up. He adjusted his hair, wiped away the tear that had no right to be on his face, and turned to Malvin and the soldiers. The sorrow was gone. His face returned to its usual cold, indifferent expression, filled with calculation, as if nothing that had happened had affected him at all.
- Take him away - he ordered, then looked at Ferrick once more. - In the name of the True Democratic Party, on April 1st, 2098, at 12:47 AM, you are hereby sentenced to lifelong relocation from the Lower Level to the Disposable Zone, for conspiring against the state of Caldoria. An additional factor in this decision is your deteriorating lung condition. The sentence is final. Glory and honor to Caldoria!
The soldiers marched toward Ferrick. He lay in shock, unable to comprehend what was happening. His mind was numb, as if everything around him was just an illusion. Malvin stood aside, observing calmly, waiting for the guards to do their duty. The fallen man slowly lay on his back, his hand unconsciously reaching upward, as if pleading for help—as if hoping someone would take him away from this place. One of the officers, seeing his gesture, raised his rifle and struck him hard on the head with the butt of his weapon.
Ferrick lost consciousness, his vision swallowed by darkness.