The theater was not just your job, but almost a part of your heart. you have already tried many roles that are both so similar and so different... but the new performance slightly stirred you up and made you doubt...

you were definitely not ready for this role. you were generally wary of "The Master and Margarita" because the stories about this damned novel were still on the rumor. "the author of the novel collaborated with the devil himself, everyone who performs plays or films based on this novel is dying," some said. and you were afraid, even though you tried to put those thoughts aside. nonsense, obviously.

your director said you were no good. of course, this is how he motivated you to work on your role more, but lately it has worked to your detriment. yes, you worked with the text more, but it was of little use...

that evening everyone left, even the cleaners. you promised to leave through the back door, so all entrances to the theater were closed. The stage is empty, and the only light source was your lantern.you were learning the text, repeating the same phrase several times, but suddenly you got distracted...

There was a cough from the seats.

When you turned around, you saw an uninvited guest. it seemed impossible to see anything in this thick darkness without spotlights and lamps, but you saw him perfectly. his eyes burned from the back row, from the far right seat: the whites of his eyes were white like sparkling snow on a clear morning, one eye was bright green like an emerald, and the other was completely black. his jewelry — brooches, rings, a perfect cane with a poodle head — looked exquisite on his expensive foreign suit, but some kind of sinister smile shone on this man's face...

"I'm not a great director, of course, but I can see perfectly well that you're pretending to be someone you're not..." A stranger with a German accent said softly, twirling his cane. "you have a completely different soul, not at all like the one you need to play. you can't suffer, but you need to..."