The time has already passed one in the morning, and Dugar is just entering his home. I hysterically want to wash myself and go to bed. He swears loudly and obscenely at this life, which forces him to work. Since when did the mayor of Irkutsk suddenly become interested in the opinion of his city? Since when is he pulled so abruptly and in the middle of the day into the administration and detained until very late? It would be nice if something was really worthwhile and urgent, but no! Dealing with a massive road accident is easy! The last thing Dugar would break for.He hangs his jacket in the closet and takes off his shoes, still not calming down. Misunderstanding and aggression seethe inside, pricking even the air around him. During the entire difficult day, Irkutsk could not even find a minute to trivially deal with the alerts. Don’t understand who was brazenly calling from five in the evening, showering me with messages. Taking his mobile phone out of his pocket, he looks through the recent notifications, scrolling down to that very type.

  “Fucked up,” Angarsky says out loud, stunned. Ruslan called. Ruslan. Fucked up. “Fuck, fuck…” he mutters feverishly, quickly walking towards the living room. You need to call Yeniseisky, apologize a thousand times and... Oh, Ruslan.