CHILD AT HEART (1)

Lirzod was on his bed. He had been rolling around for hours, but he couldn't sleep. Emptying packets of nuts didn't help either. He didn't know how much time had passed, probably half a day, but he failed to rest his senses. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered Duera. She was the one who always made him sleep, either by telling him stories or by patting on his chest. When she wasn't there, Primera took care of that job, though she mostly scared him to sleep with her one-of-a-kind horror stories.

It hadn't even been a day since he departed, and his heart which had pumped at normal speeds when he's at the shore, now pumped in strange rhythms. From as far in his past as he could remember, there was never a day he spent away from either of those two. But at the moment, both of them weren't by his side. He missed their company more than he had expected.

Silently, tears soaked the pillow as he cried in a subdued way.

After a few minutes, his eyes no longer produced tears, but his cheeks still had traces of streams left by the salty secreted liquids. He got up and rubbed his eyes and cheeks with his forearm. The coldness of his tears just told him how long he had been crying. Slight redness tainted the whites of his eyes.

His gaze settled on his right palm, which had a black circular dot on it. Upon seeing that, he remembered what had happened the previous night.

"Little Lub, promise me... You'll never get rid of that birthmark on your palm," His mother seemed emotional and serious.

"But mother, I never really liked it. Whenever I stare at my palm, all I can see is this big black mark. At school, my friends used to laugh at me, and even the philosophy and history teachers avoided giving me a handshake."

Valli's heartbeat fluctuated irregularly. Lirzod used to tell her every single thing, but after a certain point in the past, he stopped telling her matters outside the house. She knew that people didn't like seeing such a mark, but she never thought that even teachers behaved in such a manner. She gritted her teeth, and its sound reached his ears. Just the thought of people cracking up at the mark on her son's palm made her blood boil.

"Mother, I didn't tell you this because you'd have fired those teachers right away."

"Of course. I would've given them a different job. For treating you in such a manner, they don't deserve to be teachers."

"They do," Lirzod replied, startling her, "but I admired their teaching. Though they were a bit harsh to me in some aspects, I have some good memories of them, and my friends as well."

"Little Lub... This is the problem with you that worries me the most," she slid her hand on the back of his head. "If you like someone, you tend to overlook the bad in them. You can't be so trusting. At the same time, you can't persist in disliking others for the difference in opinions either. You should learn from that Vesta's boy."

"Mother, we are not talking about this again!"

"Fine, but remember that you're not a child anymore," she put her hand under his chin. "Act with anyone as per their deservedness, got it? There are all kinds of people in this world. Try to have an adult's mind and a child's heart at all times. It may not help you greatly in your endeavors, but it will leave no regrets." Her focus then shifted downward, "This mole on your palm might be a gift from God. Think of it like that, as if it guards you against the adverse eyes of the world, just like the scar on your face. These two will ensure that many of the trivial troubles don't fall over you." She slid her hand on his cheek. "Don't waste your time constantly comparing yourself with others. Don't listen to a tongue that loves to remind you what you're not good at. Remember, you are more than your imperfections. We all are."

Lirzod spoke nothing, but sadness dwelled in his eyes.

"Please, Lub. Don't overwork your tongue, or you'll let your mouth make a moron out of you. Keep your focus on your goal. Bear with everything the world throws at you, and your day will one day come when you'll know your real worth. Up till then, just be patient and stay out of at least trivial trouble, okay?"

A few seconds of mitigating silence passed.

"Got it," Lirzod nodded. "The grass is greener where you water it, right?"

"Indeed."

He took a breath, "But, mother, you are unexpectedly acting different today."

"What are you suggesting, huh?" She patted his head. "I'm not the kind of woman who'd quarrel with her son on the day before his journey."

"Hehe, you are definitely the best of the three clan mothers."

"Just among the clan mothers?" she narrowed her eyes for a moment and later planted a kiss on his cheeks.

"In the entire neighborhood." His other cheek was greeted by a kiss as well. "In the entire town!"

Getting back to the present.

Lirzod's butt had heated up by a few degrees Fahrenheit, and he was still lost in thought, but his hand just happened to land on the book beside him. He glanced down sideways, and it was the pocketbook that 777 gave him. Tinier than the extent of his palm, the claret-colored book titled 'Extensive Voyage Guide,' oozed out a newfangled aura, which made him pick the book into his hands without his conscious control. He also saw a peanut lying on the bed and picked it up with his other hand.

He opened the cover, and the first page exposed a peculiar picture of a decorated bell that faded in and showed itself on the surface of the page, right in front of his eyes. "Hmm?" he touched the image of the bell. And it gonged.

"What the—" the sound of the bell took him by surprise, and his hands automatically tossed the book away into the air.

Still, the gonging resumed, and Lirzod's hand flighted by itself, and a yellowish glow came out of it, startling him. He tried stopping his hand, but it further got pulled toward the book. "What's this?" Lirzod was forced to get out of the bed. His feet slid on the polished wooden floor as his body continually pulled closer and closer to the book, which floated in the air. He used all his strength, but there was no use. "Owuwohh!" His entire body got sucked into the book before it closed and fell to the ground.

The gonging ended as replaced by the newborn silence, and left no traces of Lirzod, other than his luggage that lied at their respective spots. At the moment, the single peanut, however, almost touched the ceiling.

At some unknown area, Lirzod stood and stared at the flowery agricultural fields, which extended as far as his eyes could behold. "What in the world is this place? Where am I?" he looked around but didn't find a single soul anywhere. His body, however, floated about and drifted along with the wind, as he got carried toward an obscure destination.

Just then, a barely audible sound, like that of wind chimes, tingled his ears.

"Who's there?" Lirzod looked around, turned in every direction in midair, but found nobody. "Wait, how can I move about like this in midair?"

"So. you have boarded one of the four vehicles that lead to the Shambala Sect." A sourceless voice then fell upon his ears like a cascading waterfall.

He turned his head back, and he felt a strange force pressing him down.

A bunch of dry leaves came flying toward Lirzod from high above and circled him before forming into a human figure in a stygian cloak, his face hidden by the hood. His long yet skinny gray beard mirrored his fragile yet towering physique, and also concealed a small dent in his jaw on the right side. His well-grown mustache hid his mouth without fault, and his hood made sure that nothing above it was noticeable.

In shock, Lirzod wanted to move back, but his body wasn't in his control, and he got pulled closer to the mysterious person.

"Fret not, child," an archaic voice, much pristine than the cooing of doves, sounded out of that man's mouth, and it calmed down Lirzod's anxiety in an instant. The pressure weighing on his shoulders was also gone.

"W-Who are you, geezer?" Lirzod still returned an unscrupulous gaze and then muttered under his breath. "And what's up with that monster mustache?"

"Right now, it matters not who I am." His fruit voice was strong and pleasant to Lirzod's ears. "Since you've come here, I assume you have your reasons for doing so, and I won't question you regarding that, but there are some rules that you must follow—be it in life or on the ship you boarded. And there is some knowledge you may be or must be made aware of."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Lirzod scratched the side of his head, "First, tell me where I am, and then bring me down to the ground, too."

The old man's arms rested on the peak of a staff that appeared to be made of twisting tree roots and leaves floated about at its base. The neck of the staff, right under the peak, was decorated with tiny bells. There was a thorny crown for its head that was adorned with jewels and stones of different colors, but the one in the center, a glassy jewel, was the biggest of them all, but it didn't stand out. It seemed as if the crown held the jewels and stones together. "You are where you wished to be." With a flight of his hand, both of their bodies dashed through the skies at high speed. They kept crossing miles in a matter of seconds, but Lirzod didn't feel any pressure on his skin whatsoever.

"Wow…" Wonderment overflowed through his expression, and he glanced at the old man in astonishment. Compared to how light he felt at the time, he thought he was as slow as a pregnant frog before. (Just who is this old man? I can't even pick up his scent despite being this close.) He leaned closer and sniffed once more, but he couldn't pick up the scent at all. Even after enlarging his nostrils there was no change. (H-How is this possible? I'm not dreaming or something, am I?)

"Why do you want to become a martial?" the old man's asked, his voice sharp as a new knife brought Lirzod's expression to the normal.

"Um," though he was in doubt about everything that happened around him, Lirzod calmed himself and replied, "I don't know." He pondered for a few more seconds. "To be honest, I don't really know, you know... Of course, I want to help my clan more than anything, but I'm not sure how I will help it just by becoming a martial."

"Are you saying you are not sure if you can help your clan even after becoming a martial?"

"Yes. My father is one thing, but his friends are quite headstrong. I can't make them work against their wishes."

A barely recognizable smile formed on the old man's face as he said, his voice like the drizzle of the autumn, "So, you fear that you won't be able to reshape the clan as per your wishes."

"Kind of, yeah," Lirzod replied like a coughing cat.

"Why do you want to change your clan?"

"Not the clan, but its people," Lirzod looked a bit disappointed and angry. "There are many harsh things my people do. Not looking after the cattle properly. Not letting our young explore the areas outside the town are two of the many issues I've always had in mind. There are also issues with trade and then with the state of Helenport, but I'll leave those to Sariyu and Brainass. They will do a better job than me. Well, that said, in the end, we three have to be making decisions together anyway, but I've been making my own list." He rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sure they, too, will have their own lists, probably longer than mine, haha."

"You are yet to grow a mustache, but you're thinking so far ahead..."

"Hehe," Lirzod embarrassingly laughed. "Keep it a secret, got it?"

"If you say so."

"Good."

The old man stroked his mustache. He's worried more about his clan's future than his own. It's noble in a way, but he's a bit too young for me to take it in that way, which means his words are likely born out of innocence. So, right now, as with any child his age, he should be focusing on himself. Without finding his own faults, and without correcting his own wrongs first, he can't correct his clan's ways, and even if he somehow did, then at best he may get to lead as a clan head for a short while, and at worst the clan itself will weaken and eventually disband or just perish. But he's too young to know all this. I guess I'll help him a little. He cleared his throat. "Ahem, conquering oneself is arguably harder than conquering the world. Conquering one's clan is probably somewhere in between." The old man shifted his head slightly toward Lirzod. "You've picked one troublesome goal. But, at least you seem to know that, maybe?"

"I hope I do," Lirzod sounded not so confident. "The last thing I want to do is force my people."

At least, he's not dense, which is good. The old man smiled a little. "I can feel you. Forcing people to do something they don't like is much easier than trying to change their characters, but such efforts never pay dividends. Even knowing that people fall for their passions. Self-control may very well be the scarcest thing in the world. Temper is another such troublesome thing to tame. Everyone thinks they have it, but they fail to find it in others often than not."

"I think I get what you're saying…" Lirzod lips curled down a little. "Every nasty friend of mine says I have that... temper."

"Hoho," the old man chortled a little. "Having temper is not a bad thing by default. Still, you acted rather well all this while in our conversation."

"That's…" Lirzod blew air through his nose. "I showed you some respect for your age, but don't think of it as me being naive, got it?"

"Calling me geezer is giving me respect?" he stroked his beard. "Well, I guess, if you say so."

"What else did you expect from someone who got pulled into a place where he has no idea of?" Lirzod barked.

"Hoho, I see your temper now... and I believe I'm not nasty."

Lirzod ground his teeth, but then quickly controlled his anger. "Just where are you taking me?"

"You'll know it soon. In the meantime, my dear child, tell me... Is there any other reason for your desire to possess the power of a martial?"

"There are some, but they are personal, dear grandpa, and I can't discuss them with an old man if you know what I mean."

"Personal?" the old man was puzzled just a bit, "Wasn't all that you said about your clan... Wasn't that personal to you?"

"No, it's public information," Lirzod shook his head and placed his finger on his mouth and uttered in a low voice, "but don't tell this to anybody from my clan, especially not to that Allda and the clan heads... Got it?"

The old man went voiceless for a moment. "Got it."

"You've already promised you'll keep it a secret. You didn't forget that already, right?"

"I'm old, but not as you think I am."

"Then it's all good."

"So, I'm asking for the third time…" with the voice like boiling leaves, he asked, "Are there any other non-personal reasons for—"

"I can give you a simple reason," Lirzod said and grinned. "The life of a hollow is not only boring but is also tough to survive. So, if I become a martial, life gets a bit easier for me and my people, right?"

"Easier, huh..." The old man took a slightly long breath. "If you can't survive the life of a hollow, how do you expect to survive the life of a martial?"

Lirzod's eyes enlarged, and nothing but the racket of the wind entered his ears. "Uh… I mean," Lirzod didn't know how to back his words.

"Yeah, I can guess. Having more power sort of guarantees more safety, but… don't you also know that… the higher you climb the ladder, the harder will be the fall. Many martials lose their wills on their way due to this plain yet thorny reason."

Though Lirzod didn't grab the meaning behind the old man's words right away, as seconds passed, his eyes gained more light. He slightly tilted his head down. "I appreciate you telling me those precious words."

"They are not that precious," the old man casually replied. "Anyone who has tasted success on their own knows that… unless they keep working harder, they are bound to fall. That's the burden that success comes with. It attracts all kinds of eyes, especially those who use others for their own gain. Failure, too, gets some attention. But, in both cases, it won't be easy to tell apart a friend from a foe. After all, we're not dealing with beasts. Because we're intelligent beings and carry varying levels of conscience, life is more difficult for us to lead, together or alone. It's just the way this world works. Finding those who don't speak behind your back is not as easy as finding your favorite stars in the sky. Not even flies show any interest in your unless you have something they want, whether it be jaggery or blood. But looking at it positively, with most animals, you at least know what you're dealing with."

Lirzod didn't say anything and just stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking, "I get that you're telling me how important it is to prepare oneself before walking the Martial Way.. but there's no syllabus or anything for this, right? It's not like passing some sect test—if you know what I mean."

The old man faintly smiled. "Currently you are on a journey to take a sect test, aren't you? How are you preparing for that test? Mind telling me the syllabus?"

Lirzod was startled. "W-Well, that… Many sects do ask for various requirements to even be eligible to take their entrance test, b-but I heard that Shambala Sect only requires one to be of at least fourteen years of age, and outsiders don't know what sort of tests they put the entrees through. So…"

"So?"

"U-Um…"

"You are on your way to take the test without even knowing the syllabus, right?"

Lirzod's face lost some color.

"Haha, I'll stop, or you might just turn into a phantom frog."

(Hmph, I lost this time, but I'll get you next time!)

"Anyway… All I'm saying is this, whether you're a hollow or a martial… Watch your steps when you're climbing the ladder. That'll help a lot."

A faint breeze blew in Lirzod's face, and he looked away. "All this martial-related stuff is so hard to understand. What even makes someone a martial anyway? I can think of a few things, but I guess I'll know it better when I become one myself."

The old man was a little surprised upon hearing that. A couple of seconds later, he lifted his staff, and they both halted in midair—hundreds of feet above the ground. "A change of plan. Since you seem to be wanting to better your understanding of what a martial is, let me show you the life of the first of them all. Soon after he said, a certain village emerged from the ground beneath them, startling Lirzod. "A long time ago, there lived three wonderful little sisters, who had an elder brother, called Rick," the old man whirled and transformed into leaves, but his voice still echoed all around. The vague visuals of the three sisters and their brother were shown to Lirzod's eyes, with the old man's voice in the background. It grabbed all of his attention. "Born poor, and living under a sorry roof cursed with cracks and holes of all sizes, he experienced nightmares every time it rained, but he made sure not a drop of rain disturbed his sisters' sleep. When the winds beat against his house, thunder rumbled in the streets, and lightning crackled upon their heads, only he knew what kept him going through those times, but it was definitely something that couldn't be seen with eyes alone. If even a tad of what made him stand and walk through the storms in his life could be materialized, it would probably put all the shining metals in the world to shame. After all, he had to work more than three quarters of the day and night combined to fill the stomachs of his little sisters and to save some coin for their future, all at the cost of his own health.

"Though he starved for many days and nights in a given year, he made sure his sisters' stomachs never grumbled, not even from getting upset. Under his care, the sisters knew not the difference between the rumblings of hunger and indigestion. He bought them fruits, vegetables—though not as fresh as the rich would have it—and everything they asked for, even if it meant shedding his sweat and blood.

"Despite being born poor, the sisters knew little about being poor, for they never had to eat rotten bread that most of their class were cursed with for their entire lives. By the time their brother bought some land and built a better roof, the three sisters grew up into beautiful women, whom almost all the unmarried men of the village wished to share their lives with, especially given the good name of their brother who've always helped any hand that knocked on his door.

"The three sisters eventually fell in love with three charming young men, all of whom belonged to markedly wealthier families of the village.

"One day, the sisters revealed their interests about marriage to their brother, and they probably believed that he would, without a doubt, happily acknowledge their love and their lovers. Howbeit, they faced what was the first blatant rejection they got from their brother.

"Though puzzled and confused, they kept on requesting their brother, regarding the matters of their marriage. Days passed. Weeks passed, but all they got in response was a rejection. With every passing day, the sisters got angrier and were annoyed at the sight of their brother. Why wouldn't he help them with their marriage when he even helps strangers? The sisters couldn't get their heads around that. Slowly, they stopped eating what his brother bought and also stopped wearing the clothes he himself stitched at the cost of his sleep."

"What an ungrateful bunch? Even though their brother did so much for them, he still doesn't show any ego, but his sisters are flexing their foolishness in front of him? I wish I could teach them some manners," Lirzod controlled his urge to jump down into the village below. "But then again, those three girls look like triplets. How cute!" At the same time, he was mesmerized by their beauty.

"Will you stop talking in the middle of my speech?" the old man's gruff voice whispered in his ears.

Lirzod's shoulders jerked a bit. "U-Uh, sure, but, hey…" he looked at the leaves that drifted about in the winds. "Can I ask you one thing?"

"What is it?" the old man's voice was incurious.

"Is it possible to take those three girls into my clan?"

"Don't be silly. Didn't you hear me say this happened in the distant past?"

"I did, but you know, I was just being hopeful," Lirzod put his hands on his waist. "If I can get those three into my clan, I will teach them some manners first!"

"Enough blabbering!" the old man's voice rang in his ears, startling Lirzod, and his heart skipped multiple beats.

"Okay, okay. I got your problem." Lirzod put his finger on his mouth.

"That's generous of you. Just stay like that," the old man's voice turned soft again. "Let's continue the story. Where were we?"

"Taking the sisters into my clan?"

The leaves made harsh, rustling sounds.

"Oh, yeah, they were giving cold shoulders to their brother," Lirzod hurriedly said.

"That's right," the old man's disembodied voice continued, "the sisters stopped eating what his brother bought and didn't wear the clothes he himself stitched at the cost of his sleep, but he was never angry at his sisters. He advised them that their lives would probably no longer be pleasant if they were to marry the sons of the rich families, but the sisters responded by saying that their lovers weren't such crooks.

"Days passed, and his sisters further distanced themselves from Rick. Unable to bear being at odds with his sisters anymore, he ultimately agreed to their marriage. Though he wasn't asked any dowry in his sisters' stead, he bequeathed an equal amount—half an acre of land—to each of his sisters. After their marriages, he was left with nothing but the small house, but he was happy with it, or so he thought.

"His sisters no longer wandered in his home, and he couldn't hear the delightful sounds made by their anklet decorations backed by their laughs. Even though time didn't stop and weeks kept on passing, the sisters' memories were still in his mind. He initially visited their homes often, but his frequency of visits lowered after the landlords didn't seem to like his presence in their territories. A farmer like him, who worked in mud every day, looked lean and far less appealing than his sisters. His dressing style was cheap, as well. Though he was born with skin paler than his sisters, his time under the sun turned his skin browner to a notable degree. At the age of thirty, he seemed no different or special than the undistinguished guys of the village—who were available in plenty.

"Even though Rick realized that he wasn't welcomed in the rich homes, he couldn't spend many days without seeing his sisters. So he made the favorite sweets of his sisters and used them as an excuse to visit them now and then. However, as the days passed, fate played a harsher game with him, and nobody came to the door to receive him. It's like his sisters purposely avoided meeting him. It took a toll on his heart for the worse. How could his sisters, who spent their entire lives under his care, be blinded to such an extent by their new families? Though he knew that the money was the cause for all of it, he wasn't angry at his sisters. Instead, he was angry at himself, and he slapped himself tens of times every morning.

"Where did he do wrong? Many thoughts crossed his mind, but one stood out among the hundreds. If he hadn't raised his sisters in such a doting manner, and instead made them experience the struggles that life brings in order to live another day... They might have grown into different women, but it was too late to change his sisters. They were already married and on their way to having children.

"In a few months, beautiful girls were born to each of his sisters, but he didn't even get to see their faces. He was denied entrance into their homes. His brothers-in-law told him his nieces wouldn't want to have such an unexciting uncle as him, and that he wouldn't be able to buy all the stuff the children would ask of him. When he turned to his sisters, they said nothing in his stead, so he could only oblige to their actions.

"Time flew by, and though his sisters lived in the same village, he felt alone. Though he saw their faces now and then, it didn't feel pleasant, for they paid less and less attention to him with every passing day. Many brothers would have lost their will by then, but Rick didn't. All he was good at was working in the fields, and he kept working no matter how he felt. Though his sisters' daughters didn't know of his existence, and though there were days when he could see those little beings but couldn't talk with them, he just waited, hoping for things to take a good turn. He couldn't give up hope on his sisters yet. He couldn't quit.

"Every day went by—him feeling like a victim who couldn't identify his enemy that he must fight against, but he always told himself whether his sisters cared for him or not, whether they turned even distant or not, he will always be there for them. Maybe, that's what kept him going.

"No matter how bad the day was, he never stopped working in the fields even when the blazing sun tried to burn his being, for that was all he knew and was good at. No matter how good the night shaped itself under the sparkling moon, he couldn't get proper sleep, for his sisters were always in the back of his mind. Ever tiny sound in the house woke him up at the thought of seeing his sisters back in his home again. He expected them every time someone knocked on his door, but that seemed less likely as the color of his hair changed.

"He had aged, and whiteness crept up in his beard, but other than that, nothing much has changed. He was still alone—and was the same guy he was the past decade. He no longer thought about tomorrow, but only the current day. He worked in the fields, as usual, walked by each of his sister's houses once before roaming aimlessly in the streets, ultimately ending up at his home.

"Soon, he entered his fifties—with more whiteness in his hair than ever before. At the same time, all three of his nieces had matured, and as their fate would have it, the three of them fell in the eyes of a wealthy manikin, a minister who directly worked under the king of their kingdom. The minister—who was in disguise at the time—asked the three girls to be his maids, but they refused right away. The minister just smiled it off and made his men capture those three girls and had taken them to his private estate.

"After knowing the news, the parents of the three girls traveled to many villages and spent so much money—giving bribes to people—just to know the location of that private estate. Before long, they learned of its location in a matter of weeks. The guards of the estate, however, didn't let them enter. Luckily, the parents were wealthy enough to pay off the guards and request an audience with the minister. In the meeting, they stated that they had no problem if the minister accepted their daughters as his wives. The minister who had never taken a wife got enraged and had them severely beaten before getting them kicked out.

"The minister had two shades to both his physique and personality. He acted like a great human being in the eyes of the public, but he committed wicked deeds for his king. So the king turned a blind eye to all of his perverted actions.

"The parents were left in shock. They certainly didn't know that the person who took their daughters was a minister. Otherwise, they wouldn't have spoken in such a straightforward manner. Though they were wealthy, their wealth was a thousand times less as compared to the minister's—maybe even less. If the minister wished to, all he needed was to raise his finger a bit, and his men would hang the heads of the parents.

"Only the minister and those who knew him well enough could tell the reason as to why he didn't kill them. It was to get on the good side of the girls. As long as the girls did what they were told, their lives and the lives of their family members wouldn't come to an end.

"Frustrated and devastated by everything that happened, the parents didn't even dare to rent a house in the village where the estate also lied.

"The minister's estate also had an infamous name, The Estate of Thousand Maids."

"T-Thousand maids?" Lirzod's jaw dropped. "Our clan doesn't even have ten."

Almost all the workers were women, except for a few handfuls of old males who took various laborious roles from watering the plants to feeding the dogs, cleaning the gardens and such.

There was a ten-ranked hierarchy among the maids. When the three nieces of Rick were brought to the estate, three among the existing thousand maids were kicked out. The three sisters were directly given the sixth rank, with the tenth being the lowest. The lower the rank, the more work a maid was supposed to do—as given by the higher-ranked maids. A tenth-ranked maid was obliged to massage the higher-ranked maids at the beck of their call. Cooking, cleaning, keeping things at their places, and such kinds of jobs were given to the newbies, as overseen by the experienced maids.

In the first six months, the three girls had risen to the fourth rank. They couldn't go any higher because the maids of those ranks were cunning and cruel towards everybody else.

In that half a year, many more maids came in, but there was only a single change in the workers other than maids.

"It was the position of the Dog Feeder," the old man explained.

"Dog Feeder?" Lirzod was puzzled. "To hire someone to feed the dogs, that minister sure is wealthy. Anyway, why are we talking about this new worker?"

"Well…" the old man's voice sounded satisfying, "Rick was the new worker."