52

A young man of slim build looked thoughtfully at the ghostly crescent of the moon, barely visible in the blue evening sky. His white face harmonized pleasantly with the white clouds drifting slowly past his window.

It is, of course, good that you decided to celebrate the Boss's birthday, - he said without turning around. But I don't see much point in it.

Won't you come with us? – the pale young man even got up from the chair in which he had been sitting before.

No Justine. I don't want to waste time on this. You can manage without me. By the way, have you already chosen a victim?

Yes, Bertrand, said another pale young man. Unlike the one they called Justine, he looked older and sterner. “He is a young man, an aspiring scientist. Or rather, he thinks so. Obsessed with English folklore. On this we caught him: we promised to show the wedding ceremony of one of the tribes of England that have sunk into oblivion, whose descendants we “accidentally” stumbled upon.

A wedding, the young ma
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