These were the longest three days of my life. I voluntarily signed up for every night shift, turning into a walking zombie with red eyes. Every time that damn bell rang above the door, my heart did a flip, and my hand reached up on its own to adjust my cap.

  But she didn't come.

  Yoto. The name I repeated to myself like a mantra, trying to fish out of the emptiness of my memory at least one frame, at least one sound of her voice from "childhood." But the silence in my head was absolute.

  "Hey, Squirt! Are you sleeping with your eyes open again?" The Dwarf Ruzvol walked past, bumping my shoulder. "Go wipe the tables, you could plant potatoes on them already."

  I stayed silent. I didn't have the energy to snap back. I just stared at the empty street through the display window, feeling hope slowly turn into dull irritation.

  And this morning, when I finally crawled home and was just about to collapse onto the bed, there was a knock at the door. The mailman. He handed me a heavy, official envelope with gold embossing.

  "Notice of Inheritance. To Arkgrim Helv."

  "Inheritance?" I stared blankly at the paper. "Could it be that my ancestors were actually not just shadows, but normal working stiffs who didn't drink everything down to the last penny?"

  I tore open the envelope. The text was dry and legal: "...in connection with the completion of the primary processing... we invite you for the transfer of rights to your parents' property..."

  I chuckled, feeling excitement waking up inside me.

  "Well then, ancestors," I whispered, looking at my reflection in the dusty hallway mirror. "I hope you worked like the damned and left me at least enough so I can quit this aromatic hell and never see MacDuck again."

  I splashed my face with ice-cold water, trying to give my face at least a somewhat lively appearance, and headed to the specified address. Images spun in my head: a luxurious mansion, an account with six zeros, or at least an old garage packed with something valuable.

  After a week at "MacDuck," I was ready for anything. As long as this "anything" brought me enough money so I could ride in business-class taxis again and not feel like a "flower" that only needs tap water.

  I walked to the legal office, clutching the letter in my pocket.

  'Please, let there be a lot of money. Please, let me never have to fry those damn patties again.'

  I walked into the legal center building, feeling extremely uncomfortable among people in expensive suits with serious faces. The hall buzzed with voices, the smell of expensive perfume, and paper-shuffling bustle.

  I walked up to the information window.

  "Hello..." I mumbled.

  The guy behind the glass didn't even look up, continuing to type furiously.

  "HELLO!" I barked so loud that a couple of people in line flinched.

  "Why are you yelling, kid?" the guy finally deigned to look at me, and his eyes read annoyance mixed with exhaustion. "Say what you need, and don't create sound waves."

  "Here, I got a letter," I poked the envelope into the slot under the glass. "Where do I go with this?"

  He carelessly took the envelope, but the moment he glanced at the seal, his facial expression changed instantly. He grabbed the phone receiver and began dialing a number quickly.

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  "Umm... hello. He has arrived. Yes, it is definitely him. Yes, very well," he hung up and looked at me with some new, almost superstitious reverence. "Fourth floor, room three hundred and fourteen. They are expecting you."

  I rode the elevator up, feeling everything inside trembling with anticipation. In room #314, I was met by an elderly lawyer wearing glasses with thick lenses.

  "Arkgrim Helv, correct?" he asked, pointing to a soft leather chair.

  "Yes, correct."

  "Your parents left you a substantial fortune," he began, unrolling a stack of documents. "There is thirty million dollars in your trust account. You also own five percent of the shares in 'Grow Industries', five percent of 'Black Rock', and one percent of 'Hiha Motors'. In addition to this—a mansion in the suburbs and an apartment right in the center of Yokohama. There is also a lot of minor property and antiques listed."

  I listened to him, and it felt like I was just about to take flight. Thirty million! Shares! A mansion! I was already imagining how I would walk into "MacDuck," throw forty dollars in the Dwarf Ruzvol's face, and order myself a helicopter straight to school.

  But the lawyer adjusted his glasses and looked down at the papers.

  "However, per your parents' wishes, you will only be able to fully manage the main capital and shares upon reaching the age of majority. That is—when you turn eighteen."

  "WHAT?!" I almost collapsed back into the chair. "Wait five years?!"

  "Patience, young man," the lawyer raised a hand. "According to the will of the deceased, until your eighteenth birthday, you assume ownership rights to the apartment in the center, and you are also assigned a monthly allowance of six thousand three hundred dollars for personal expenses."

  I froze. Six thousand three hundred... Per month.

  That was a hundred times more than I earned at "MacDuck" for a week of hard labor. That was taxis, steaks, new games, and... freedom.

  "Although..." I thoughtfully scratched my chin. "That is actually very nice. That is simply wonderful!"

  "Sign right here, Arkgrim Helv," the lawyer handed me a pen.

  I put down a sweeping signature, not even reading the fine print (what difference does it make when they're giving you six grand of green a month?!).

  I stepped out of the building, squinting against the bright sun. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy. I walked down the street, almost skipping with every step, and mentally blew kisses to the parents I didn't remember. Whoever they were, they turned out to be the most foresighted people in the universe.

  "Well that's it, Dwarf," I whispered, walking into the subway. "My career at 'MacDuck' is officially over."

  It was the "Yokohama Tower"—a gleaming glass colossus piercing the clouds. I stood at the foot of this behemoth in my worn-out jacket, which still smelled of the deep fryer, and felt like a maximally foreign object here.

  As soon as I stepped into the sparkling clean lobby, a security guard immediately rushed up to me.

  "Hey, kid!" he barked, blocking my path. "Wrong door? Food delivery is through the service entrance at the back of the building. Get lost!"

  I didn't even get mad. I was too lazy to argue. I simply silently pulled the official confirmation from the lawyer out of my pocket and shoved it under his nose.

  "Hold your horses, commander. Here, look at this."

  The man took the paper, ran his eyes over the lines, and I literally saw his face turn from red to deathly pale. He stood at attention, almost saluting me.

  "I apologize! Forgive me, for God's sake... I didn't know... Please, come in, Mr. Helv! Allow me to escort you to the reception desk!"

  He led me through the lobby looking as if he was guarding the emperor himself. The girl behind the desk, upon hearing the floor number, also became noticeably flustered.

  "The fiftieth floor..." she whispered, and a reverent awe flashed in her eyes. "That 'mysterious apartment'."

  With trembling hands, she handed me a heavy black card.

  "Here are your keys, Mr. Arkgrim. This is a master key: for the elevator, the parking garage, and the apartment itself."

  "And how do I get up there?" I asked, twirling the glossy piece of plastic in my hands.

  "That elevator at the end of the golden corridor," she pointed to a cabin made of polished steel. "Just tap the card to the scanner, and the system itself will deliver you to your personal floor."

  I got into the elevator. Tapped the card. The cabin shot upward silently and incredibly fast. My ears popped, and the floor numbers on the display changed with the speed of a machine-gun burst.

  The doors parted. Before me was a short, empty corridor ending in a massive door. The elevator behind me closed quietly and went down. I walked up to the door and touched the scanner with the card.

  A quiet click. The door smoothly slid to the side, and at that exact moment, a soft, diffused light flared up inside.

  "Hello, Arkgrim," a calm, melodious female voice rang out, seeming to come from thin air. "I am your home assistant, Yanu."

  "Well, hello, Yanu," I muttered, stepping inside.

  The house immediately "came alive": a silent robot vacuum rolled out from a niche somewhere, the sound of running water came from the bathroom—the system was checking the faucets, and the curtains on the panoramic windows slowly parted, revealing a view of all of night-time Yokohama.

  "Arkgrim," Yanu's voice became slightly more official. "An unknown man, identifying himself as a hotel employee, is requesting permission to enter. Grant access?"

  "Yeah, let him in," I tossed the keys onto a glass table.

  A man in an impeccable uniform walked into the apartment. He looked as if he himself was part of this decor.

  "Sorry to bother you!" he bowed. "You arrived so unexpectedly. Allow me to give you a brief tour of the apartment. There is only one apartment on this floor—yours. The area is two hundred square meters. A large kitchen, a huge bedroom, a spacious living room. Two bathrooms, two wardrobes. The system is fully automated and controlled by Yanu."

  I walked across the living room, almost sinking into the fluffy carpet. The sizes were clearly chosen to match my new ambitions.

  "Yes, a lovely den," I summarized.

  The employee bowed once more and disappeared out the door. I collapsed onto a huge couch, which felt softer than a cloud. Opposite me on the wall hung a TV the size of a small football field.

  "Yanu," I called out. "What can you even do?"

  "I am an artificial intelligence integrated into the building's management system," she replied. "My capabilities are extensive: from climate control to ordering any services and ensuring security. Please, Arkgrim, how should I address you?"

  "Just Arkgrim. Without any 'sir' or 'mr'."

  "Acknowledged, Arkgrim. Would you like anything for dinner?"

  "Later..." I closed my eyes, feeling the incredible softness of the couch drawing the last of my strength out of me. "First I'll just... sleep."

  For the first time in a long time, it was quiet in my head. No smell of patties, no grumbling from the Dwarf, no fear of tomorrow. The apartment on the fiftieth floor securely cut me off from the world I had been in. Here, I was just Arkgrim. And that was enough.