I'm lying on my mattress and can't believe my luck at finally being home again. God, I had no idea that such a musty place to sleep could be sorely lacking. But it is so. Even the straw that pushes slightly through the ceiling suddenly seems pleasant. Like heaven. I can't estimate how long we stayed with Zet. Only that it was already light when Zaret and I left. I ignore the fact that I got an old linen shirt from Zet and snuck around town with it. At least as far as I can. Actually, the residents don't pay any attention to me. Seeing through me like I'm a ghost. But just this morning, people seem to have decided to pay attention to me. That it was due to Zaret's presence I'm aware, but that's not important. I can already imagine the rumor mill churning and it's only a matter of time before Claire gets the latest news. It will only drive her further away from me. A fact that gives me stomach ache. And so, instead of sleeping, I find myself thinking about how to talk to Claire. But I really can't think of anything. This is probably not even because there is no path, but because my mind is incredibly sluggish. But at least Zaret isn't here. A plus. So I can enjoy the rest for a moment and spread out completely on my mattress. Don't have to deal with what he did to me today. That he creates fear and well-being in me at the same time. I push all of that backwards. And as I clench my eyes and just want the tiredness to take over, my door opens. I grumble softly and at that moment I resolve to use the wooden beam more often to lock the door. Another thing I can't afford. A castle. Actually, I don't need any either. What is there to steal from me, a prostitute? But lately, such an easy way to lock would have been more than handy. What is there to steal from me, a prostitute? But lately, such an easy way to lock would have been more than handy. What is there to steal from me, a prostitute? But lately, such an easy way to lock would have been more than handy. Footsteps ring out, but I don't even bother to see who's coming. It must be Zaret. Even though he said he'd be gone a little longer, I'm not questioning his showing up. He probably wants to tell me again that I belong to him and that I should never forget it. But no one sits on the mattress or kicks me to make room. Instead, there is a rustling sound. One that's right in front of me. And with that, the smell of a fresh bath creeps into my nostrils. It smells nice. Somehow like flowers and yet tart. Just not like Zaret. So I widen my eyes and stare at the man in front of me. He tilted his head and there was a slight smile on his lips. platura. "Good morning sleepyhead," he whispers, and I would like to laugh out loud. Sleepyhead. It would be nice. But instead of saying anything, I close my eyelids for a moment. Not even the question of why Xerxes sent him in particular is on my mind me. "Come on, Kalota. I don't have forever." And with that, Platura sits down on my mattress and pulls the blanket down with me. I murmur in protest and want to pull the piece of fabric over me again, but even as I reach for it, I really notice who is here in front of me. Platura. And with that the last remnants of my tiredness are gone. Under no circumstances must Zaret come here. Platura would be able to put one and one together. Would recognize him. Would know that this is the man he is killing So I push myself up, trying to stammer some excuse as to why I have to bar the door on the door, but I only manage to push myself a few inches off the mattress when Platura puts her hand on my shoulder and presses me back on the sheet."No, I don't even think about it. Zaret knows someone is being sent by Xerxes, but like me, he'll probably think it's someone who couldn't place him. So what if Zaret just walks in here, assuming he won't be recognized anyway? A meeting between Zaret and Platura is the last thing I want. In fact, I don't even know who would scare me more. So I want to push myself up again. This time I was not even granted a millimeter. Platura groans in annoyance and increases the pressure with his hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I really have better things to do than being here. So do me a favor and don't make it any harder than it is." The voice is cutting and I automatically duck away a little. But before I can even begin to answer, he pulls something out of his pants and something cold hits my back. I squeak in alarm, but that's more a reflex than the cold actually bothering me. Still, I can't help but shiver as more of the cream lands on my back. And with that, I decide to put my trust in Zaret. He's careful. Not dumb. He certainly won't take the risk of coming here. "What are you thinking about?" Platura sounds thoughtful. As if his thoughts aren't with me at all, but rather he's used to asking questions that really don't interest him. But that's probably the case. Me I don't want to know how many useless conversations this man has to have just to make the rich feel like they matter to him. "Why you're here when you really don't want to." Totally a lie. Even I'm shocked at how easily this lie slips off my lips. Apparently I've learned more than I've ever realized. "Because Xerxes trusts me." He rubs the cream on my back and leans forward a little. "There really isn't enough to see in here," he mumbles, and these naive words only make it clear that he's one of the poor. It is almost interesting to hear the different expressions and pitches of Platura. As if two people live in it. The one who doesn't want to stand out among the rich and the other who has the typical mumbling pronunciation of a gutter kid. And the saddest thing is that Platura doesn't seem to belong to one of those worlds. A man with no real home or sense of belonging. "There's a candle over there." As I do so, I wave my arm in the air and point roughly in the direction of where my table is. Platura sighs softly, but gets up. And while I hope Zaret doesn't show up, he can I can't help but keep glancing at the door. I want to be prepared if Zaret comes. Maybe I can even run there quickly and warn Zaret. "Why don't you have any windows?" Platura grabs the candle and approaches me again, but doesn't look at me. Another sign that he doesn't really care why I live here. So I take a deep breath and hardly shake noticeably tilted his head. "You don't have to entertain me." This is serious. I don't need useless words to break the silence. It doesn't matter to me whether it's oppressive or pleasant. Talking takes strength. Power I don't want to waste. And finally Platura looks at me as he settles down on my mattress. "Who says I want to entertain you?" In fact, Platura manages to sound genuinely questioning. As if it weren't obvious that he was. But instead of answering, I just blow out my nose and close my eyes. Platura also seems to want to leave it at that. He cloaks himself in silence, turning to my back instead. Distribute the cream there completely. "I'll have to wrap towels around you later so the cream can soak in completely," he murmurs, holding the candle a little closer to my back. Seems to check to make sure he got it all. Then he turns to my thigh Brushes the scab lightly and I gasp. But Platura ignores it. Continues to drag his finger over it. "It's not finished." I immediately follow his gaze and look at the deep cut. A line goes around my thigh. And that line ends in a square, which is on the outside of my leg. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be a square. The wound is too big for that. Far too bulky. "Tell me, what did you do to make him stop?" I furrow my brows and can only shake my head in bewilderment. I didn't do anything. Or did I just forget? It could be Not." That corresponds to the truth. I would say it if I could. But Platura doesn't even seem surprised by this answer. Still, it seems like he really would have liked to know. "Pity. You're the first to do that...", he stops because there's a loud bang. One that comes from the open door. And this sound makes me close my eyes in resignation. It's clear who's standing there I don't look. No smell of the underlying sulphur. Zaret. I would have thought that by now my heart would be beating painfully against my ribs. That I would panic completely. But I'm not. I'm calm. Not even a Thought flashes through my head It's just quiet.