Lucifer - Legacy

I became interested. Very interested.

"Do you like to draw?" I asked, glancing at him.

"More like writing down my thoughts. And sometimes they turn into pictures themselves," she replied, a little thoughtfully.

I wanted to ask more, but I didn't. I wanted to preserve this mystery and not disturb her peace.

Time passed more slowly. She worked, I did my thing. Occasionally our eyes met—briefly, but with something more than just curiosity.

— It's ready. Now it will fly.

"Thank you," she said, taking the laptop in her hands. "You really are a wizard."

“I’m not sure I deserve such a description,” I smiled.

“I’m sure,” she replied, smiling. “How much do I owe you?”

“Not at all,” I answered, frowning slightly.

— And yet? You did the work.

"It's on the house. And please, don't argue," I replied in a convincing tone, making it clear I wouldn't take any money.

- Thanks a lot.

Having thanked him, she was about to leave, but suddenly turned around at the threshold:

— What time do you finish today?

"Finishing? Today? At five," I blurted out, embarrassed.

"Perhaps after work I could buy you a coffee as a token of my appreciation?" she asked, a little shyly.

“With great pleasure,” I answered, also embarrassed.

“By the way, my name is Gia ,” she added, already disappearing behind the door.

“Klim,” I called after the girl of my dreams as she walked away.

And she left. I stood there, unable to believe that such a thing could happen to me—an ordinary guy who had almost stopped believing in coincidences.

The rest of the workday passed in a blur. I worked, but my thoughts were far away—they revolved around a single name: Gia .

Her appearance was so unexpected and strange that I even began to suspect it had something to do with Lucifer. But no—if he'd wanted to introduce me to someone, he would have done so directly. "Was it just... a coincidence? Or was it?"

Time dragged on, as if waiting for me to come to my senses. There were almost no customers, only the occasional one stopping by to check the status of their orders. I answered questions automatically, smiled, nodded, but internally I was somewhere else entirely. "She'll be back in a few hours. We'll have coffee. We'll talk. We'll get to know each other a little better. And maybe we'll work something more out."

And then, as if to break the looming suspense, the door swung open again. The same client entered—a man with a gray face and a cold gaze. He walked silently to my desk, placed a black envelope in front of me, and reached for my laptop.

“It’s ready,” I said briefly, taking the device out of my bag.

He took it, examined it carefully, then nodded.

“Okay,” he said, just as calmly as yesterday. “Then we’re done.”

I wanted to say something else, to ask a question—what was in those files? Why did he need them? But something flashed in his eyes that made me shut up. Like a warning. As if he knew better than to meddle in this matter.

The man turned and walked away, leaving behind only a faint scent of old money and something elusive and disturbing.

I looked at the envelope. Money? Perhaps. But for some reason I didn't want to open it. I put it on the edge of the table and continued working.

When the clock struck five o'clock in the evening, and I was about to close the workshop, the door opened again—this time she burst in with a warm draft.

Gia asked, smiling .

“Like never before,” I answered without thinking, gathering my things.

We stepped outside. The city had already taken on the dark tones of evening light. Neon signs began to flicker, as if awakening from a slumber. Night was giving way to day, and I sensed this night would be special.

"There's a cafe nearby," Gia said , pointing. "They make the best coffee in town. At least that's what they say."

“Then lead the way,” I agreed.

As we walked, we chatted about everything. About the books we'd read. About the movies we'd loved. About the music that brought us together. She was surprisingly well-read, a little cynical, yet incredibly sensitive. Her gaze was striking in its depth, and her voice was like music.

The café turned out to be small and cozy, with old leather sofas and the smell of freshly ground coffee. We sat by the window. The waitress quickly took our order. We continued our conversation, oblivious to everyone else.

“So tell me,” she began, tilting her head slightly, “are you really such a good master or do you just know how to be kind?”

“Maybe both,” I answered with a smile.

"I think you're being modest," she added. "You have the eyes of someone who's seen a lot. And not just technical problems."

Her words caught me off guard. What did she mean? Why did she say that?

"You're weird, you know that?" I replied, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, I know," she chuckled. "Sometimes people say I understand too much. Or too little. Depending on who's around."

— Do you often understand people so immediately?

"Not always. But sometimes... there are those for whom you feel something special. As if their story intersects with yours. Even if you're meeting for the first time."

- You are a very interesting girl, Gia .

"You're a very open person, Klim," she replied. "And perhaps that's why we met."

— Do you also feel that this is not a coincidence?

"I stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago," she said, taking a sip of coffee. "Especially when it comes to people who are destined to meet."

We fell silent. It was getting dark outside. The city's lamps began to come on one by one, as if someone invisible were igniting them.

It was chilly when we left the café. I offered to walk her home, and she agreed.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked.

— Very close. Near the old park.

“I’ve been there,” I nodded. “It’s a very beautiful place.”

— Yes, especially at night. When no one is around, and you can hear the trees whispering their secrets.

We walked slowly down the street, lit by dim lanterns. The air had grown cooler. It seemed the entire city held its breath, as if it didn't want to disturb this strange, almost magical atmosphere between us.

Gia walked alongside me, occasionally stopping to look at another display case or simply slowing down, giving me time to catch up. We talked about everything, and the more I got to know her, the more I realized she wasn't just a pretty woman. She was... special.

Finally, we stopped at an old house with carved wooden shutters and a neglected garden out front. The moon cast a soft glow on the porch, making it look like a set from a dream.

“Here’s the house,” Gia said , turning to me.

"It's a nice house," I remarked. "It's like a book you want to read to the end."

She smiled.

- Maybe one day you can.

We fell silent. I felt an invisible connection forming between us—not love, not passion, but something deeper. As if our conversation was the beginning of something greater.

"Thank you for the evening, Klim," she said, looking me straight in the eyes. "It was... interesting."

"Likewise. I really enjoyed spending time with you too," I replied.

For a moment, it seemed she wanted to add something else. But instead, she simply extended her hand, shaking mine with particular warmth.

“See you later,” she said, disappearing through the door.

I stood there for a moment longer, looking at the windows of the house, as if hoping to see a silhouette behind the curtain. Then I turned around and slowly walked back to the car, which was waiting for me at the service station.

The city greeted me with its usual routine: cars, illuminated signs, random passersby. But now it seemed different. Not because anything around me had changed, but because everything inside me was different.

Reaching the car, I got into my old Citroen and started the engine. The car coughed a little, as usual, but ran smoothly. I headed home, feeling a lightness I hadn't felt in a long time.

Along the way, I thought of Lucifer again. His words, his gaze, the memories he shared with me. How strange that just a few days ago I considered myself a nobody, and now... Now I felt like I was taking part in something important. That my hands were writing a story that would change not only me, but also those who would someday read it.

The apartment greeted me with coldness and silence. I closed the door, threw my jacket over the back of a chair, and walked into the room. Paper and ink lay on the table, neatly arranged, as if waiting for the rest of the story.

I looked at my watch – half past ten. Lucifer was supposed to arrive at midnight.

Sitting down on the couch, I decided to wait. I pulled out a notebook and tried to write down my thoughts, but my hand wouldn't obey. Too many emotions. Too many questions. Too much of everything.

Gradually, my thoughts began to become confused. My head felt heavy. I leaned back on the pillow, deciding to just close my eyes for at least a minute... A moment later, I was already asleep.