As he fingered his rosary, counting off one bead after another, Leon watched the bleak landscapes of Matariel float by: weathered houses, bumpy roads blurred by rain, rare people hurrying in an unknown direction. The surrounding grayness was depressing — it pulled down to the bottom of self-exploration like the tentacles of a Kraken. And only the driver's cough interrupted the priest's thoughts, each time causing him to wince disdainfully while he was not looking.

Father Leon, the pastor's voice echoed in his head, For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it will be opened.

The sight of a dreary and dilapidated church standing on a hillock only intensified his already gloomy mood. How could the pastor suggest that he increase the interest of young people in the church if the only church in the city looked like the unclean himself had settled in it? If it wasn't for his duty to God, Leon would have turned back without hesitation. But according to the pastor of the church he was sent from, people needed the hope that someone like him could give them. A young man whose thoughts were pure and his soul was open to anyone who wanted to confess. Yeah, sure.

The car slowly braked, but this did not save the rear wheel from hitting a pothole, which caused the priest to jump on the spot, noticeably hitting the top of his head on the roof. Restraining curses, Leon interrupted the driver's apologies with a hand gesture, smiling modestly.

Opening an umbrella over his head and holding a bag with a few things in his hand, he sighed and began to climb the ruined steps leading to the church.

Two people were already waiting for him at the door.