Nikto painted Kors’ face with all the diligence, as he could, beautifully shading the cheekbones and making the facial features more expressive. Kors looked at himself in the mirror.

Nikto really emphasized his beauty, made him “mysterious”, but Kors was not at all happy about it, because he hoped so much that when the dye disappeared from his face, he would not have to apply it anymore. He hoped that Peace and his former comrades-in-arms would not find fault with him, and that his rash offense would be forgotten.

“I'll replace your jewelry,” Nikto said, appraisingly examining his work.

Kors was depressed and silent.

Nikto inserted a complex decoration into his punctures. The silver peaks in it were much longer and more massive than the previous ones. The central one bifurcated at the base, and its upper part was like a sharp spike, and the lower arc descended downward and, like a hook, clasped his chin.

Now, when Kors lowered his gaze, he could easily see them, and the hook, digging into his chin, prevented him.

“Gods,” he whispered, “for what?”

Nikto heard him:

“I'm not punishing you, it's beautiful.”

“They bother me.”

“Well, not as much as Arel’s cork, you will get used to it.”

“Now I have to wear a mask in the Fort.”

“Go to Arel!”

Kors looked at his tormentor in confusion.

“Come on, go! Sit next to him!”

And when Kors hastily got up from his chair, walked over to Arel and knelt beside him, Nikto said:

“Kiss!”

But neither Kors nor Arel could do this because of their “jewelry”. Kors only rested his spikes on Arel's lip, and Arel couldn’t move his mouth at all. Kors saw now how the round top of the cork rested on his lower teeth and Arel couldn’t properly close his mouth and from this the upper lip is deformed too.

Realizing that they couldn’t kiss each other, Nikto smiled smugly, and Kors, looking at him, saw with what a mischievous and triumphant shine his eyes burned, like transparent glass.

“Take off your clothes and go to the bed,” Nikto ordered him.

Nikto gathered them all in the living room again:

“I will leave for a while, literally for a couple of days,” he anticipated the question, ready to break from the lips of Lis, having understood everything by the expression on his face. “Relax, don’t be bored. I will come and we will return to the Fort.”

Lis turned away in frustration.

And Nikto left them.

“I can no longer sit here, as in a cage,” said Lis, “it's unbearable!”

“Well, what can we do?” Remarked Kors. He carefully and with some anxiety watched Lis, trying to determine what he thought about his painted face and the pikes sticking out from under his lips. And waiting for his reaction. Would Lis say some humiliating joke, would he make fun or just rudely insult him? After all, Lis himself was in perfect order. Kors was very offended that the Demon had ennobled Lis’ appearance, and, on the contrary, had lowered his one.

But Lis it seemed, was not going to do this, as if not noticing neither the changed appearance of Kors, nor the cork in Arel’s protruding lip. Did he care? Or was he used to the Demon’s amusements? In any case, he didn’t bother Kors in any way, with a gloomy look he sat down at the table in his place next to Karina, who was still wearing a cape.

“I can't stand this inaction any longer,” he said.

“Alis, you are here not for the first time, tell me, how these holiday at the Demon are conducted? You’ve probably already been to a similar event? Maybe you remember something?” Kors asked cautiously. The thought of what was happening to them on the “holiday”, as Nikto put it, also haunted Kors, and seeing that Lis didn’t not seem to intend to offend him and was behaving adequately, Kors decided to ask.

“Yes, I’ve been,” answered Lis quite calmly and lit a cigarette as usual.

“And what happens there?”

“He erases memory.”

“It’s a pity,” said Kors, upset.

“But I remembered a little last time, and I can roughly imagine how everything happens.”

“How?!”

“He’s got a big throne room down there, huge. He sits on the throne, next to his unclean bitch. They are like a king with a queen. And the unclean and all sorts of beings from other worlds come to him, bow down. He is not very simple, our Demon, and he is respected. When I first saw this, I was amazed. I was kneeling beside his throne. He simply puts or places his slaves next to him. I'm sure he put us in the same order as the fingers of a fist: me, Karina, you, Arel, and showed everyone.”

“You're right! I had some similar memories, everything is so… I very vaguely remember… I remember the presence, Karina is near, but I don't remember Arel, although I have to stand between them.”

“Last time he sat Arel at his feet right next to the throne. And I was on the side of the throne.”

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothing good, Kors. Then they have fun in another large room, everything is in carpets and pillows. They are having an orgy. They fuck their slaves and swap them. Or they force slaves to fuck each other for the amusement of others. They could do whatever they wanted with us.”