The Healer: A Portal Progression Fantasy Series by Roman Romanovich

Author:Roman Romanovich [Romanovich, Roman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

When Peter returned he was as gloomy as a storm cloud.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he snapped back.

“Yeah... I find that hard to believe.”

Peter glared at me and... went to the kitchen to peel potatoes.

“But we just ate...”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I went after him. “Are things bad enough for us to start packing?”

I made a joke, but instead of smiling, Peter looked at me seriously.

“Maybe that’s the best option. Maybe you should just leave the city.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s going on, Pete? Talk to me, man.”

“Not now.” He shook his head. “I need... I need to think.”

“Okay. But—”

“Where’s Igor?”

“He’s in the bathroom, getting cleaned up.”

I observed Peter, slightly annoyed and suppressing an urge to walk up to him and wake him up by brute force. As they said, you could get much further with a punch than you could with a kind word alone.

Someone called him. He left and was gone for about half an hour. He came back angry as all hell, saying that I should flee the city. Was I in danger? Were we both in danger? It looked like it was mostly about me. Was I in danger because of him or was he in danger because of me? Did Gorynych and his son threaten Peter, telling him to stop being friends with me? Perhaps.

If that really was the case, if Peter was really in danger because of me, then there was only one thing to be done.

Of the money that the nomads left me, I had forty-two rubles. I got some from Boris and another hundred as a bribe, but I spent ten on groceries when we went to the market. I didn’t want to be a freeloader. Plus, I owed Peter seventy, but I hadn’t given it back yet.

I went to my knapsack, quickly collected a few things, and counted out the bills. I put seventy rubles on the table.

“Igor.” I knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you alive in there?”

“Go away!”

“Listen, if you need anything, you can find me at the restaurant through Peter.”

“Don’t you have a day off? Where are you going?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s a secret. I’ll see you around though. And, uh, good luck.”

“Goddamn it!”

Peter either heard me or felt my departure with a sixth sense, but he was in the hallway before me. His arms were folded over his chest and his gaze stern.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“With your things?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“To take them out for a walk. Money’s on the table.”

“What money?”

“For the shoes. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. What are you doing, Oleg?”

Peter looked so upset, I legitimately thought that instead of talking, he’d try to reach for his frying pan and beat me on the head with it.

“Why the long face?” I stared at him blankly. “I’ve caused you enough problems. Thank you for your hospitality, but it’s time for me to get out of your hair.”

Peter closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Igor got out of the toilet, clutching his stomach.

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