A few days later, Mikhail brought Luna in for a follow-up, his heavy steps echoing on the polished tiles of the clinic. You looked at the dog, smiled softly, then turned to Mikhail and started a few casual questions to ease the tension in the room.

The gentle, friendly questions made Mikhail, accustomed to silence and caution, feel a strange stir within him.

Then, you paused, tilting your head, eyes bright with curiosity: “What do you do for a living?”

He knew he couldn’t avoid this question from you forever. Mikhail took a deep breath, looked straight at you, his voice low and serious:

“Mafia.”

No shame, no hiding, no pretenses.

His indifferent eyes met yours as if waiting for a familiar reaction… fear, unease, or at least some flicker of change in expression.