Chapter Text
Leonard woke up from another nightmare. For six months, he'd been plagued by the same dream: a bastard named Ince Zagwill murdered the entire police station in the small town where Leonard was born and raised. The scene was horrifically bloody: colleagues Leonard trusted with his life lay with their hearts ripped out. Only a beyonder could have done such a thing, so it was widely reported that a terrorist had burst into the station and opened fire.
It was even reported in the newspapers; some figurehead, or even a puppet, was arrested and convicted, but for some time Leonard couldn't leave the house without fear of media attention.
It was fortunate that his adoptive grandfather, Pallez Zoroast, helped Leonard move from the island in southern Britain to the capital and provided him with money, allowing the unfortunate man to escape his despair and depression.
Leonard sat up in bed and abruptly pulled back the curtain, letting in light. Unfortunately, the sky was white as milk, and the sun was nowhere to be seen—the November weather was not encouraging.
The young man in his pajamas reached for his phone. His hand trembled slightly as he checked his calendar. In theory, today was supposed to be his appointment with a new therapist, as the previous one had made numerous incorrect conclusions and had almost worsened Leonard's condition. This would be his third visit, so, confirming that the calendar did indeed show an appointment this week, he breathed a sigh of relief and got out of bed to freshen up after four hours of sleep, since no more was necessary, and prepare to go to the therapist.
His lifestyle resembled that of the gilded youth, for whom everything was paid for by their elders, but unfortunately, in Leonard's case, this was unavoidable until he could recover from the horror and begin his life anew. After all, he didn't cook in his rented apartment; a cleaning service handled the cleaning, and it's not like he made any friends in the few months since moving in.
The capital was chosen as his new home for several reasons: a wide range of activities, proximity to the Zoroast family home, and a large number of highly qualified psychotherapists and psychiatrists. This is not to mention the fact that Leonard's story quietly sank into oblivion in the capital among the many traumatic stories; journalists were no longer waiting for him on every corner.
*****
"...Perhaps you should consider finding a roommate," the man's tone was soft and kind. Simply listening to him could alleviate a multitude of symptoms of various mental disorders. This amused the young man, but also convinced him that changing therapists after three months of unsuccessful therapy was a good decision. Even if there was a good chance his therapist was a beyonder with access to his consciousness and mental state. "It would also benefit your socialization."
Leonard looked at him, trying to collect his thoughts. He'd started the session by telling him about his nightmares, and their conversation eventually turned to Leonard's need to open a new chapter in his life.
"Haha... If only I had the resources to find those looking for a roommate..." His words contained a hidden meaning: he had acquaintances living in the capital, but they would prefer a beautiful girl or a cute boy as a roommate. Leonard, at 25, didn't think he was ready for such a relationship. However, Grisha, the therapist's name, was right: in three months, the young man hadn't made a single friend in the new city, and if it hadn't been for the calls between him and Pallez, he would have forgotten how to communicate with other people.
"...I can give you the contact information of an old friend of mine, a university professor. I think he could help you; after all, students and graduate students often can't rent a place alone."
Living with a student? Leonard stared into space. Memories of his own student days and hopes for the future stabbed him painfully. A primal terror and the screaming thought "nothing will ever be okay again" surfaced in his mind. Broken and traumatized, slowly piecing himself together, could he really live next to a teenager whose life was in full swing?
"Perhaps...I don't think I'd want to live with a student. Someone older..."
He fell silent, his gaze gliding across the office floor. He felt guilty rejecting the proposed option, his thick bangs carelessly obscuring his emerald eyes from the attentive doctor. When he finished, Grisha gave him a few seconds before speaking himself:
"I understand, you might feel that confronting your past with a potential roommate will only make things worse," the man said with gentle sympathy. "Perhaps graduate students or new grads having difficulty finding their first job would be a better option."
This slightly allayed Leonard's doubts. He raised his head and smoothed his hair out of his eyes.
"Of course... in any case, I can always say this option isn't suitable and refuse, right?"
Grisha confirmed the young man's words with a smile.
"You can also make demands of your roommate. That's perfectly reasonable and appropriate."
Unused to treating other people like objects to be discarded when they become inconvenient, the former officer leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His legs were stretched out in front of him, also crossed at the ankles.
"You should think about what you expect from your roommate. Perhaps, while we have time, you can formulate something. For example, do you have any preferences regarding cleanliness in common areas?"
Grisha's example was innocent, merely providing a point of reflection, but Leonard was deeply immersed in his thoughts. Sharing a place... For a man who could barely pinpoint his favorite activities, what music he liked, what books he found interesting, this was incredibly difficult. And even before, he had nothing but work, no preferences in food or clothing, only the habits instilled in him when he was accepted into the Zoroastov family.
"I guess I just wanted...an interesting person." But nothing else comes to mind.
" Well, that's a start."
*****
At the end of the session, Leonard received a number he could use to contact a university professor. The note had a name and a title underneath.
"Azik Eggers... Doctor of History... I think he'd get along well with the old man," Leonard muttered under his breath as he busily dialed the number. He was sitting in a park, near a now-disconnected fountain near the clinic where Leonard visited every Tuesday.
After entering the number, he paused for a moment. Crows were making noise, occupying the branches of the bare trees; it seemed to be getting dark earlier than it should have. Putting aside his doubts, Leonard pressed "call," and after five rings, a call notification and a polite greeting sounded.
"Good afternoon, Professor Eggers? My name is Leonard Mitchell. Your number was given to me by..." He briefly recounted the main story. "I was wondering if one of your graduates is looking for a roommate."
A thoughtful "Oh..." came from the other end of the line, and after a few seconds, Professor Azik spoke up:
"That's right. I do indeed have such a candidate. He's supposed to be arriving today to give a lecture. You have the opportunity to meet him and discuss everything in person."
******
Having learned the time at which his potential roommate was planning to arrive at the university, Leonard decided to meet him after class. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of peeking in on the class, so he arranged with Professor Azik to wait for Klein—the name of his trusted roommate—in the department.
After lunch at a modest coffee shop with prices outrageous, even for a capital city, Leonard looked at himself in the mirror that greeted customers.
For his appointment with the therapist, he'd chosen neutral, casual clothing. Casual and disheveled—after all, he wasn't planning on impressing anyone in the doctor's office. But now that he was planning to go to the university to meet his future roommate, he needed to pay at least some attention to his appearance.
Jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt, and an American bomber jacket, the overall color scheme was black and red. He looked great among the students; at least, he could blend in and avoid becoming popular. For the first time in six months, Leonard considered his appearance. He suddenly realized he didn't like the way his hair had grown, so he bought a hair tie at the nearest beauty store, tied the loose strands of hair back into a ponytail, leaving his bangs alone. He caught a taxi to Khoy University, where he got a permit and went looking for it, asking literally every other student for directions and the right classroom.
He'd been mistaken in his judgment – most of the students adhered to a formal office attire, so awkward.
Seeing the sign "Department of History and Political Science," Leonard felt relieved and knocked.
He was invited inside, and at one of the desks sat a middle-aged man with bronzed skin but a very mature beauty—Azik Eggers, as the former policeman recognized him by his voice.
You couldn't address such a man as anything other than "Sir," so classically British was the aura around him. His roots might have come from warmer, more southern climates, but he had been raised as a true British gentleman.
After shaking hands, the two of them moved to the "guest" section of the auditorium, where there were two sofas and a coffee table. Leonard glanced at the gramophone, but didn't dare ask about it.
They sat opposite each other, and a few minutes later the young man accepted a cup of black coffee, kindly offered by the assistant.
Azik watched Leonard very vigilantly, albeit discreetly, but the young man still felt like ice was being applied to his skin. They briefly engaged in small talk about the weather, the mood on campus, and upcoming educational reforms.
"Sir Eggers, is it possible that you know about the beyonders?" Leonard was one himself. He wouldn't have asked if he hadn't felt icy needles beneath his skin, ready to tear at his muscles. Being from the Path of the Sleepless and a low sequence, he couldn't help but feel uneasy under the adult professor's scrutinizing gaze.
"...Of course," he smiled warmly, though Leonard still felt chilled, "being an beyonder yourself makes you very well suited for living with Klein."
So Leonard received a slap in the face: the Beyonders were rare... specimens of the human species, and yet, his neighbor would be as special as he was. Even before meeting him, he had a high opinion of Klein. This thought completely distracted him from his thoughts about Professor Azik's path and sequence. A spark of excitement ignited within him. Not as unpleasant as when he'd been searching in vain for the history department, but positive, blazing from his solar plexus upward.
******
They chatted for a while longer, Leonard barely containing his excitement, before the door opened and a young man with black hair and brown eyes walked in. He paused in the doorway, seeing a stranger in the department, but his expression didn't betray a moment of surprise.
Leonard noticed him and waited curiously to see what would happen, though he was ready to jump up at any moment.
Klein Moretti stood in the doorway. Surprisingly, he looked exactly like one would expect a history major: formal attire, neat hair, an aura of erudition and scholarship. A gentle refinement, a certain averageness of features, and overall...he looked the opposite of Leonard: disheveled, informal, and only refusing to put his feet up on the table because of Professor Eggers's presence.
"Good afternoon, we have not met yet." The smile on Klein's lips expressed politeness. His gaze was even and calm, his brows relaxed; it seemed impossible to discern any real emotion. But Leonard, realizing his future neighbor was friendly, didn't notice; he jumped up and came over to say hello.
"My name is Leonard Mitchell. I heard you're looking for a roommate?"
Leonard's cheeks ached slightly—he was smiling, and it seemed he hadn't done anything like that in centuries. He extended his hand to Klein for a handshake. A few strands of hair had fallen from his loosely pulled ponytail, and his emerald eyes sparkled as he looked at the historian.
Klein's smile widened.
'He looks gay,' he thought, but he shook his hand anyway, analyzing the facial features and appearance of the man in front of him.
"That is indeed true. I found a nice place close to the city center. If we split the cost, the price is quite reasonable." Speaking of money, Klein remembered he'd forgotten to introduce himself. He chuckled to himself. "My name is Klein Moretti. Nice to meet you, Leonard."
"Klein!" Leonard repeated his name, a certain... solemnity in his voice. "Um, when are you planning on moving? I could help."
He winked at Klein, letting go of his hand... it was a shame Leonard's gestures seemed flirtatious to him, not friendly.
For a second, he considered it wasn't too late to back out, but ultimately decided that a new place and the chance to gain freedom from his family's scrutiny were more important than the insignificant question of his roomate's sexual orientation.
"In best scenario, within three days, if we agree and sign the papers today. I won't need any help, except maybe carrying your things into the house."
"Oh!" Leonard looked like a puppy who'd unexpectedly found a home.
"I suggest we grab a bite to eat..." Klein checked the time on his phone, "and then go talk to the landlady, if she's free."
After that, Klein stepped into the classroom.
"I still need to finish my work for now. Can you wait in the university courtyard for a while? I'll find you."
The smile on Klein's lips became slightly teasing, as if Leonard might seriously get lost. Leonard paused for a second as some unfamiliar emotion struck a chord in his chest.
******
Leonard left the room. The two historians were left alone. Klein let out a sigh and pulled a coin from his sleeve, performing a divination.
"Is it a good idea for us to rent an apartment together?" he repeated seven times silently and flipped the brass 'yes/no' coin with a resounding click. Azik watched him closely, clearing the remaining cups from the coffee table.
The divination showed a "yes," and the young man performed a series of divination tests to determine whether the landlady would be able to accommodate them today, whether he should sign the lease today...
"Professor Azik, what do you think of Leonard?"
Klein was still unsure. In his profession, having a roommate was anything but easy. Even if the divination showed everything would be fine, it was better to be on the safe side. And to prepare—after all, he was a beyonder of mid sequence and had already grasped the basic principles of action that lay in his path.
"He already knows you're a beyonder. Apparently, he's low sequence... perhaps from the path of darkness."
"...You told him?" Thanks to his "clown" abilities, Klein managed to keep the surprise out of his voice. He wasn't particularly pleased to have been discovered...
"I sense a wavering feeling in this young man's destiny," the man said, a gentle smile playing on his lips, his gaze tender. "He may be connected to those who can help us, Klein. Anyway, how was your first lecture as a lecturer?"
Pursing his lips, he put the move on the back burner: after all, he hadn't come to the university for fun.
*****
Klein found Leonard lounging on one of the benches along the alley leading to the university. He looked completely lost, looking around for his new roomate and studiously ignoring the group of students clearly interested in such a handsome man. When a couple of girls approached Leonard to ask what department and year he was in, Klein, wearing a coat, a beige knitted scarf, and a shoulder bag, appeared out of nowhere.
"Excuse me, ladies, we're in a hurry. He's not a student, just waiting for me to get home from work," he said, smiling and in a true gentlemanly tone. It was as if he were the embodiment of another era. "Come on, Leonard. Ladies, have a nice day."
And he didn't wait for the former officer to recover from his shock before heading for the exit. The girls could only watch as Leonard—oh, what a romantic name—caught up with this overly old-fashioned gentleman.
...Klein himself didn't know what rumors he'd started; after all, it had happened right on the main avenue.
Half an hour later, they were sitting in a café, having lunch. Klein called Stelyn Sammer, a woman who was waiting for word on her lease. They were good friends, so Klein had been waiting for her lease to end for a while. Essentially, thanks to his connections and the fact that the previous tenants had broken all the dishes and damaged the furniture, he had a chance of not spending much on rent. Compared to the market, he was paying pennies.
Nevertheless, she was expecting them in an hour and a half. Considering that it was easy to catch a taxi at that time, it would be acceptable for them to leave the café in an hour.
Leonard ordered ham toast and an Arabica Americano.
The café hadn't yet launched its summer menu, so Klein, instead of his favorite sweet iced tea, ordered a latte, a sandwich, and dessert. The atmosphere was welcoming enough for an introduction, but a notification rang on Klein's phone, and he, surprised, as if suddenly remembering something, immediately reached into his bag for his headphones.
"Did something happen?"
"Nothing. There's a press conference about suspicious suicide cases with the police about which I almost forgot."
Leonard paused for a moment: in his hometown, such things were rare, and he hadn't really been following the news for the last six months. Not focusing on why his new roomate was even planning to watch this press conference, he picked up his cup and abruptly moved from his chair to the sofa next to Klein.
"I'd like to watch too," he smiled, but it was clear he wasn't just interested in the press conference for fun. Klein quickly went to the news channel and turned on the broadcast, handing one of the earbuds to Leonard. He also picked up the nonverbal signal and began holding Klein's phone for them so they could both watch the screen.
The room from which the live broadcast was being conducted was quite familiar to both of them. At the main table sat the police headquarters, several inspectors, and on the opposite side, apparently, journalists and community representatives.
A black woman began reading the report.
[The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found last night on a building construction site in Greater London....]
Leonard's eyes widened. Deputy Minister? At a construction site?
[...preliminary investigation suggest that this was suicide...]
Klein only managed to restrain himself from making a caustic comment, thanks to his clown abbilities. Leonard, however, looked at the woman who had just spoken, puzzled. Suicides among those in power were commonplace, but the question was, to what extent could other "powers that be" have been involved in this "suicide"?
[...we can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore...In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked...]
Leonard shook his head slightly, brushing his hair. He unconsciously leaned closer to Klein.
"So they refuse to admit it's murder, yet they classify them as isolated incidents... huh, are the London police that hopeless?" His tone was almost teasing, but Klein agreed with his conclusions.
[The Investigation is ongoing, but Detective Inspector White will take questions now.]
A young man with thick brown hair and light green eyes, whose full name was Kenley White, began answering questions.
Leonard paid attention to him.
"Wow... he looks rather young for an inspector, though he seems reliable... I suppose it was his expression that made him take the rap."
Klein nodded.
[Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked? - They all took the same poison, they were all found in places where they had no reason to be, none of them had any reason to commit suicide…]
"It's amazing, he just turned them all in!" Leonard looked in amazement at Klein, who had forgotten about dessert. He folded his arms thoughtfully over his chest, since there was no need to hold the phone.
In fact, Leonard glanced at his new roomate for a second, admitting that when he was lost in thought, he looked quite attractive. As if this man was born to delve into mysteries... For now, the former policeman had linked it to his profession as a historian.
[Do these three people have any connection? - No, the investigation is still ongoing...
Could these cases actually be murders? How can Londoners protect themselves?]
"What a blatant provocation," Klein bit his lip and frowned.
[The investigation shows that the likelihood of a serial killer appearing is extremely low, although residents should still exercise caution.]
"Well, at least he didn't say 'to protect themselves, people shouldn't commit suicide.'" The press conference was over, the broadcast turned off. Leonard placed his phone facedown on the table and leaned back on the sofa, clasping his hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.
His professional habits demanded that he dive into the case and investigate it... especially since he was beyonder, he had a significant advantage over human investigators.
"I'll be back for now. I'll be right back," Klein interrupted his thoughts, rising from the table and retreating to the restroom. Unfortunately, he didn't want to conduct divination sessions in front of Leonard just yet. Besides, there were other secrets that were too early to reveal. Leonard didn't move his gaze from the ceiling, muttering, as if to himself, "Uh-huh," and Klein was able to retire.
In the restroom, he pulled a small silver amulet from his pocket. It unfolded into an elegant knife, creating a spiritual barrier to prevent anyone from interfering with his work. Everything was set.
He had just pulled out a coin and was about to perform the reading when a premonition that it would be unsuccessful overwhelmed him.
Klein pursed his lips and took four steps counterclockwise.