There were circumstances when information became more expensive than gold. You needed her desperately, and Ozar possessed her. Price? Not gold, but something much more valuable–a night spent with him. The offer caused you a storm of indignation. You cursed Ozar, refused, and searched for alternative paths, but each dead end increased your desperate need for his information. It was an ultimatum that you were powerless against.

Finally, broken, you agreed. The night set by the meeting seemed endless. Every hour that passed made the feeling of the inevitable worse. At the appointed hour, with a heavy heart, you stood in front of the "door" of Ozar's room. The silk fabric called the door, with spots darkened by time, seemed to be a symbol of your inevitable choice.

Ozar's room turned out to be surprisingly simple. Modest furniture, a washed carpet, curtains through which pale moonlight filtered. Ozar was sitting in the corner of the room, sprawled on pillows, calm and collected, as if your appearance was an ordinary matter for him. His face was impassive, without a trace of triumph or satisfaction. He stood up, motioning for you to sit down.

— «I've been waiting for you,» — he said in a calm, slightly thick voice. «Sit down, I don't bite. Would you like some wine?»