Prologue
Eleonora was upset that her iced latte wasn't all that sweet, despite the obscene amount of sugar she'd dumped into it along with milk and cream. And she had already left the café, heading toward the university, which was about a five-minute walk away.
"How convenient that they built the café right across the street. I bet these cashiers make more money than half the coffee shops in the whole campus district."
She had been enrolled in the university's Department of Applied Arts for about a year now, yet still shuddered at the memory of her first interview. She had gotten terribly sick right before the meeting, spending several days bedridden with a fever. And the weather was probably the worst in history — hot and stifling. Despite all this, she had been preparing her portfolio, memorizing the words she planned to say, photographing the models she had made with her own hands. She knew that if not now, the opportunity might never come again. She had felt like her life ended when she saw 38.5°C on the thermometer that morning. But she still knew, with more clarity than anything else in her fever-fogged brain — fogged by worry, by a craving for pistachio ice cream, and even by the struggle of swallowing pills while trying, as usual, to play at being carefree — that she wanted to go there.
"They'll be proud of me. At least this time..." she told herself, looking at her parents' photo and smiling as she pulled on black leggings, a white cropped tank top, an old black leather jacket — it was still cool early in the morning — and the New Balance 530 sneakers she'd been given long ago for her 18th birthday.
"Good luck, gorgeous." A girl came out of the bathroom with a tiger-print sheet mask on her face and a cup of tea in her hands.
"Thanks, Katrin," she replied, trying not to laugh, and quickly slipped into the toilet.
"You wore shoes in the house again!? How many times have I told you not to do that!" Katrin shouted through the door.
"Yes, mooom!" Katrin was a year older. They had met when both were submitting their documents in person, and Katrin had been overseeing the admissions desk for Architecture at the time. Eleonora had accidentally spilled tea on her. For a long time afterward, she thought Katrin's shirt still smelled faintly of fruit tea with lemon. Eleonora had offered not only to wash it but to buy a new one. In return, she'd been told there were a million ways to fix things, and she had just blinked like a confused poodle, realizing — this girl was clearly from the "upper league." Their different upbringings hadn't stopped them from having a warm friendship and even living under the same roof. At times they felt more like mother and daughter — that's how different their financial situations were. Katrin studied Architectural Design and Art History. She often reminded Eleonora of Elle Woods from Legally Blonde — an eccentric Barbie-like blonde with incredible talent, topping the rankings of her faculty and giving even famous architects a run for their money. You could easily call her a princess or the main character of this novel I'd stumbled into. In everyday life she was helpless, in cooking — picky, and in food and clothing — downright particular. Her life was a winning golden (or, as she said, pink) ticket. And me... I could only watch, and worry that some jerk might break her. Knowing her sensitivity, that could be anyone.
"I look like a walking corpse. Someone could paint me. But at least my teeth will look alive," she said, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush.
"Feeling better today?" came the high-pitched voice again.
"Yes!" She knew that if she told Katrin she was falling apart and could soon be reconstructed into a mosaic portrait, Katrin would immediately text her father to "take care of things." Katrin loved helping. Though from her father she took only her last name — everything else she earned herself: through part-time jobs, projects, and they paid her well for it. She didn't want to be accepted through connections, and Eleonora was endlessly grateful to her for letting her stay in a paid dorm — without cockroaches and with air conditioning. Eleonora felt ashamed that she paid next to nothing for it, even though her friend insisted it was fine. She wanted to prove she could stand on her own. But could she? Doubt is the thing that fills the human brain at the worst possible moment.
"God, you look like a panda. Very cute, of course, but I don't like it on a human face."
"Look who's talking, tiger." She giggled.
"Are you sure?" Katrin looked at her with the eyes of a mother sending her child to first grade.
"You've already been accepted there, and it went fine. Even great."
"I had a different admissions panel, different people... and a different status," she said, lowering her voice at the last words.
"You still think they only accepted you because of your father?" Katrin asked, pulling out a pack of granola.
"I understand it wouldn't have happened without that. They looked at me like I was Midas's daughter with his own hand attached. Ela, I'm afraid they'll treat you rudely."
"You think that's possible in such a prestigious university?"
"Sweet Ela, nasty people are everywhere. If I could, I'd freeze them all, cut them into cubes, and turn them into an installation called The Death of Humanity. But then I'd be first in line for the death penalty." Sometimes it seemed that Katrin, despite being labeled a "bitch" and "daddy's girl" by many, had the soul of a newborn child. It was enough to make you cry.
"Don't worry about me. Where there are bad people, there will also be good ones. Time will tell. Consider this my life's trial." She noticed Katrin's eyes filling with tears. Katrin was truly emotional and got attached quickly. Eleonora was surprised that in just two and a half weeks, Katrin had grown so fond of her. Of course, they had talked a lot — about life, feelings, and everything else — but now she knew for certain: she was her best friend. And she believed in her. She walked over and handed her a tissue.
"Promise me you'll get in! If they don't take you — threaten them with me! Call me, I'll sort it out!" Eleonora couldn't hold back her laughter; Katrin, in tears and with a tiger mask on her face, looked absolutely ridiculous.
God.
She's so funny.
"Fine, I promise," she said, pouring milk over the granola.
"I still worry about how you look."
"Life is a fight, and I'm a bit of a cripple in it. But that doesn't stop me from wanting more — even without legs." She placed a glass of water and a plate on the table.
They spent the rest of breakfast talking about Katrin's dream to return to Europe — this time as a professional, not a teenager. About hints that Eleonora should get a boyfriend — she was 21, and no one had kissed her except friends and her mom. She repeated that she was asexual and wanted to focus on her future. Katrin grumbled that if she didn't have a boyfriend by 22, she'd take the role herself and show her what "a relationship" was. They laughed loudly, inventing scenarios of their future marriage, five cats, and eventual death on their own vineyard in Spain. But time passed, and the moment came — it was time to go.
Her hands trembled as she gripped her tablet and folder of documents. Her heart was pounding so hard that the noise in her ears drowned everything out. Walking down the corridor, she mentally admired the architectural design of the university itself — everything was beautiful, everything had its charm. She felt she could spend part of her youth here.
Whether it was the fever weakening her, or the pills not working, or maybe just nerves... She reached the door of the room where the interview was supposed to take place, knocked, and almost opened it... but collapsed onto the cold floor.
She didn't remember what happened. She couldn't understand why, in the very moment she was about to reach her goal, everything went wrong. Was it a lack of confidence? Or was fate itself telling her this wasn't her path? Through the darkness, she felt warmth... hot warmth... then softness... then something wet on her head... but still couldn't tell where she was or what was happening.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a white ceiling, an even whiter fabric screen like in hospitals, and a shadow beside her. Still in poor shape, she squinted — everything was blurry. Then she heard a voice:
"You're awake?" The voice came either from the figure or maybe she was just imagining it.
"Where am I?.." she said softly, even considering repeating it in case he hadn't heard.
Yes. He. Ela decided the voice was definitely too masculine.
"This is the infirmary. You passed out right in front of the men's restroom."
"The men's restroom?.. I thought it was the admissions office..." She felt herself blushing, though maybe it was just the fever.
"Perhaps you mixed them up. I'll leave a campus map next to your things. Get well soon. I'll inform your interviewer to reschedule. Just give me your details." His voice was surprisingly pleasant and calm. Yes. Very pleasant.
"No! I have to present today!" She jumped up to sit on the bed, but her head immediately spun, and she lay back down again. "Damn it."
"In this condition, you can't present. You need to recover. Since you collapsed on my faculty's territory, I'm responsible for you as a lecturer."
A lecturer?! He — a lecturer?!
That's it. She was absolutely sure this was her first and last day here.
"No."
"Don't be stubborn. You had a very high fever — judging by how hot you were..."
"Hot?.." Oh no.
"I mean, you were hot when I carried you here."
Cue funeral march. She could already picture the inscription on her tombstone.
"You carried me?!"
"What, should I have just left you at my feet?" He sounded like he might have smirked while saying it.
"Oh... damn."
"Thank you... Sorry for the trouble."
"No, I'm sorry. I'm acting like a donkey. So, what are your details?"
"I said — no."
"Why?" Why indeed... why didn't she want to?..
"I want to leave," she said firmly, touching the wet cloth on her head.
"Leave?" He was clearly surprised.
"I made a promise," she said curtly, trying to sit on the bed's edge and lower her feet. Her head was still spinning, and the figure in front of her was still blurry, but seemed tall.
"You can come another day..."
"I need it to be today." Silence followed — the kind that feels like it stretches into eternity. Then the stranger spoke:
"What's your name?"
"I told you!.."
"I'm just curious — out of politeness." Eleonora felt ashamed for raising her voice.
"Sorry... I'm Eleonora... Eleonora White. Sir..." She didn't dare ask a question back. Or maybe she just didn't think of it. Right now, all she was thinking about was how to find the strength to stand up.
"Which faculty?"
So calm...
"Art and Design. Possibly also Art History, if there are still spots available." She smiled.
"Why that one?" His voice carried a hint of coldness.
"Why that one?.." She hesitated, her hands clenching the bedsheet into fists. She looked at the figure standing by the window, and in the morning sunlight, it seemed as if he were an angel painted directly from the life of a saint. She wanted... to touch that painting. She didn't know how to answer his question. Or maybe she did — but she was afraid of sounding foolish and naïve.
"If you don't have an answer, you don't have to—"
"Happiness."
God. Why did you say that? What are you even talking about?..
"Happiness?" he repeated quietly, with a trace of surprise.
"People feel happiness when they see something beautiful." Shut up already! she thought, covering her face with her hands.
"Are you sure you'll be able to withstand the competition with that as your motivation?" He didn't say it harshly, but there was something troubling in his tone.
"I didn't come here to compete. I came here to create.
I adore seeing people's eyes light up when they look at architecture, drawings, book covers, beautiful food, their own home — made especially for them.
Happiness is luck. Happiness is love. Happiness is flowers.
All of that is beauty.
That is beauty.
It's wonderful. People are wonderful.
The happiness that comes from beauty — is wonderful."
Well, that's it. When should I buy my urn? she thought, staring down at her knees.
He stayed silent. Silent.
She heard footsteps moving away across the floor — toward the door, as it turned out. Before leaving, he opened the window; the breeze stirred the curtains. It looked beautiful. She wanted to sink into the sunbeams breaking through the tiny gaps.
"I wish you happiness, Eleonora." Then came the sound of the door closing. And silence. Only the beating of her heart and the ticking of the clock continued in their set rhythm.
She felt she could stand now. Her hand slid over the soft fabric, and she drew the curtain aside.
Light poured onto her face. And not that she minded, but her light eyes watered slightly at such a gift from Celestia.
On the table lay her documents, tablet, and phone. Her jacket hung on the chair.
That day, she felt an unforgettable strength and confidence.
And because she was still dizzy from illness and fever, she almost forgot everything she and that "ghost" had talked about. She thought she might have gone mad. But for some reason... she didn't find it unpleasant.
It was nicer to think that it was her own body speaking to her, giving her the strength to move forward.
What can I say — creative people are just like that... a little strange.
And when she looked at the clock, she saw that only ten minutes remained before the decisive moment of her life.
