Gathering their thoughts and waiting for Matt for a while, they stepped out onto the street. The landscape unfolding before their eyes defied comprehension. Everything was at once utterly real and utterly unimaginable, like a painting that had leaped off the canvas. Ornate yet austere houses, stagecoaches drawn by strange horses of jade hue with bluish-black manes, a motley crowd blending attire from various eras: simple robes, business suits, military uniforms, and some even clad in full steel plate armor. That said, there were plenty of people in ordinary clothes as well.
Matt walked with his mouth agape until Cassian's voice caught his attention:
"Strange. The architecture is diverse, but it strongly resembles Romanesque style," he said, scanning the signboards. "And the language looks familiar. It resembles Gothic most of all. Though honestly, it's like a blend of several Germanic languages."
Matt looked at Cassian quizzically:
"When did you start getting into stuff like that?"
Cassian shrugged:
"I wouldn't say I'm obsessed. I just enjoy exploring the origins of things. Language, architecture, life... You know, questions like what, how, when, and why something came to be."
Matt furrowed his brows and sighed with a bored expression:
"Yeah, some things about people I'll never get. What's so interesting about digging into history?"
"Well, the interesting part is..." Cassian began, but Matt interrupted:
"I mean, isn't it easier to spend time on what lies ahead in the future rather than staring pointlessly into the well of the past?"
Cassian looked at Matt as if he were an idiot:
"It's because... well... basically... Oh, screw you, anyway."
Matt laughed fakely:
"I'm just kidding, I get it! Wanted to lighten up the conversation. By the way, where are we headed?"
"To my place," Cassian said curtly. "Since I arrived, I haven't been able to sort out the mess of the old Cassian's memories. I figure being home might help untangle at least part of this knot."
Matt stared at him for a moment, then sighed:
"Hah, lucky you: you've got a home and parents... Hey, do you know the difference between bad children on Christmas Eve and orphans?"
"What's that?" Cassian asked, thrown off by the abrupt shift in topic.
"Bad children have no presents and orphans have no parents and no presents." Cassian's eyes darkened at Matt's grim joke. "I don't know how my parents died, but from the memories, I get that I was in an orphanage from childhood. And now, with the Structure, I'm on my own. Cruel, isn't it?" He flashed a crooked smile.
An awkward silence hung between them until Cassian ventured to offer support:
"Matt, I..."
"Doesn't matter!" Matt cut him off sharply. "In this world, those parents mean nothing to me. The ones I consider family, I left behind in another world. Now I can only hope they're okay."
"Speaking of Structures," Cassian tried to change the subject. "What did the diviner tell you?"
Matt shot a quick glance at Cassian, looked away, paused, and exhaled:
"Structure type—combat. Name is Inevitable Destruction. The verdict... not encouraging. There's a suspicion that my Structure is tied to wicked gods or the Devil himself." The last word piqued Cassian's interest; he'd heard it before.
"The Devil... They told you about him too?"
Matt nodded:
"Something like universal evil or the king of demons, as I understood it." He paused. "So, because of this faint suspicion that I might be a minion of one of those evils, they've got me on their radar."
"But why did they just let you go? Wouldn't it be simpler to check right away?" Cassian asked.
"Because it's time-consuming. For a thorough check, my case will be handed over to the Church of the Original—they'll dig into the archives. I'm supposed to report to their jurisdiction in a week. Besides, the suspicions are weak for now... Just mild interest, nothing more."
"So, what's the Structure like?" Cassian asked with growing curiosity.
"Hmm... Hard to describe. It's a flame... A massive crimson flame, covered in patterns of eyes, inside which hordes of skeletons burned in agony."
Cassian's interest ignited:
"And what did you feel when it manifested?"
"I..." A faint shiver ran through Matt's body. "I heard whispers. They were... infernal."
"Infernal? Like mad babbling?"
"No... Not like they were trying to whisper something. More like they were doing it unconsciously... As if they were asleep..."
A tense silence settled between them. Each sank into his own thoughts until they reached Cassian's house.
"This it?" Matt whistled.
"Nightingale Street, number 34. Yeah, this is it," Cassian muttered with mild surprise.
Before them stood a two-story house of light stone with oak trim. Judging by its appearance, it was less than twenty years old. Such a home spoke of a family with above-average means.
"Well, shall we go right in, or do you need a moment?" Matt asked, turning to Cassian.
His expression said it all. Though he'd been putting off this moment, it had arrived. The first meeting with the parents of this body. Panic gripped Cassian, mingled with fear. What if they realized he wasn't their son? How would they react? Kill him on the spot? Or tie him up first and interrogate him?
'What to do? What to do?! What to do?!!' His thoughts raced. Biting his lips, Cassian desperately searched for an answer in his mind, but right now, it was blank.
"Cassian..." Matt called.
Cassian spun around sharply, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and forced out:
"Nothing, Matt, just lost in thought. Let's go in." He decided to leave it to chance.
...
Inside, the layout matched the fragments of memories, but as he crossed the threshold, Cassian involuntarily froze, taking in the space.
They were greeted by a spacious hall filled with various furnishings. The walls were painted in the same light stone as the exterior. The furniture and floors were made of wood much darker than the oak trim on the facade—Cassian couldn't identify the species. The scent of flowers hit his nostrils—at first odd, but after a couple of seconds, it acquired a peculiar charm. From the hall, paths led to other rooms: straight ahead to the toilet and bathroom; to the right, a wooden staircase to the second floor; to the left, the living room combined with the kitchen. The door on the right was closed from his memory—a pantry.
As they looked around, footsteps sounded, followed by a sharp voice:
"Oh, by the Original! Bursting in without knocking again? Hey, haven't you been taught any manners at all..." The voice cut off when the woman saw Cassian. "Cassian? Son! I won't say I'm not surprised by your delay. Well, how was the assessment? What did they say?.." She fell silent upon noticing Matt. "S-son... this... who?"
Before them stood a woman of about thirty-five. Her light chestnut hair cascaded loosely down her back, and her bright golden eyes immediately explained to Cassian whom he resembled in appearance.
"This is Matt. We met at the assessment. I hope you don't mind that I brought him without warning?" Cassian delivered the pre-prepared line.
His voice was steady, without a tremor. Perfect, he thought. But the woman reaction showed how wrong he was.
"Ah... Matt, is it? N-nice to meet you! I'm Evelina Moruway, Cassian's mother. Very glad to have you... here!" Her voice trembled, contrasting with her earlier sharpness. "W-wait just a second! I need to tidy something up and... discuss with my husband!" She glanced around frantically, rattled off the words, and darted into the living room.
As soon as she vanished, a loud, excited exchange reached Cassian and Matt's ears:
"Darling, Cassian brought a friend!" his mother exclaimed joyfully.
"What? A friend?" man's voice replied skeptically.
"Yes, a friend!" she confirmed, echoing him.
"Homo sapiens?" he asked, still doubtful.
"Yes, Homo sapiens!" she repeated, just as excitedly.
"No way! Not some talking rock named Fred? Or an imaginary flying antelope named Anfisa who, according to him, took him to fairyland?"
"Mh-mh!"
"Hold on, dear, I want to see for myself!" he said, already heading their way.
A man's head poked sharply around the corner—short black hair, deep-set turquoise eyes, sharp cheekbones. His appearance exuded sternness, which clashed with his behavior. After glancing at the guests for a split second, he withdrew just as abruptly. The dialogue continued:
"It's really a person! Oh, by the Original! Is my boy finally socializing?!" came a joyful cry, followed by the sounds of embraces.
Matt, who had watched this spectacle, turned to Cassian:
"Bro, I had no idea your parents were such... nutjobs."
"Shut up," Cassian grimaced. "I don't remember them being like this before."