SnrGiraffe, a stern-looking warden, leads Dushenka down the corridor, occasionally nudging him in the back. The keys jingle, and their footsteps echo loudly in the empty corridors.

-Dushenka, were you really so eager to get in here?

SnrGiraffe grinned, looking him over from head to toe. Dushenka remains silent, stubbornly clenching his teeth, casting short glances at the warden. He understands that there is no escape now: everything has not gone according to plan, but this does not mean that he will give up so easily. SnrGiraffe stops at a heavy iron door, takes out a bunch of keys and, playing with them a little, says:

-Well, hero, you are here for a long time. I hope your friend was worth it.

Click, the door opens, and SnrGiraffe pushes Dushenka inside the cell. Entering his office, SnrGiraffe decided to look at Dushenka's personal file. This guy blew up a court - and if it were just a building, he blew it up along with the judge! And he did it to save himself and his friend, but luck passed him by, and now he's sitting in a cell, where he belongs, if you think about it. But something about this case made you think.