Bernardt thought he should have prepared better for this great escape while waiting in the doctor's veterinary office. For example, he had packed only the essentials in his small backpack, which were related to the cat: her favorite food, treat, and vitamins. It only now occurred to him that he hadn't thought about himself—he hadn't even packed an extra pair of underwear.

At the moment, he was just glad to be alive and hoped Daniela would manage to bring Katy. If he had thought through the situation more, he could have planned for the possibility that he might be unable to return to the house. But it was too late to think about that now.

Suddenly, he realized they hadn't clarified what would happen after he teleported. And where would he go? So he called Max and hurriedly asked his questions. "I could have asked these earlier, but I can't think straight now. It's only now that I've calmed down and thought things through," he apologized.

"I understand, but there's no need to worry about that. But tell me, when are you leaving?" he heard Max's surprised response.

"I still have to take care of something in about one or two hours, but definitely by the evening."

"Alright, hurry up. You'll teleport to Walnut Grave, where you'll first get a new identity. A good friend of mine, Noir, will be waiting for you. He'll take you to a safe place to stay for a few days without attracting attention. If everything goes well, I'll come to get you myself. So everything will be fine, don't worry about anything," Max reassured him.

"I won't have much with me. I couldn't pack clothes for myself..."

"That's okay, but you'll need a new photo taken for your new ID, so you should change your appearance.

"Oh, yes, I hadn't thought of that..."

"Alright, see you soon, and please hurry!"

Bernardt felt somewhat relieved, glad that he had called Max. Although they had never met, they had developed a relationship where he trusted Max with his life.

The veterinary office was empty, and as he paced impatiently, he saw his gaunt reflection in the mirror above the sink. Yes, recent events had worn him down; it was no wonder he couldn't concentrate and kept forgetting things. In this exile awaiting him, it might be necessary to shave off his beard or style his hair differently to avoid recognition. And if he had gone home, he would have taken care of these details.

He stared at his carefully groomed beard, which he could shave off. This beard was so much a part of his identity that he might not even be recognized without it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of scissors and began cutting it off. He didn't think about whether he would miss it or how he would look without it. It was tricky to cut it neatly with scissors and shape it so that only stubble remained. He spent almost half an hour making it look as precise as possible and was very satisfied with the result. He was about to start restyling his hair, having gotten into the mood of transforming himself, when the doorbell rang.

Bernardt was delighted that his cat was finally here, but when he looked into the waiting room, a man in a suit stood before him, carrying a large pointer dog.

The man stared at him in confusion, as if he hadn't expected this. "I'm looking for the doctor. Is she here?"

"She had to run an errand but should be back in a few minutes. I'm waiting for her too," Bernard replied, only now realizing he still had the scissors. He quickly put his hand behind his back to hide the tool and, to ease the awkwardness and distract himself, asked, "Did something happen to the dog?"

"Yes, he must have stepped on something during yesterday's walk. But we only noticed today that he was limping badly, and when I checked his paw, it looked pretty bad..." He set the dog down on one of the chairs and lifted the dog's left hind leg, from which a small piece of metal protruded. It needed to be more apparent to Bernardt how a dog could step on something that would pierce its paw unless it had accidentally jumped from a height and landed on that shard. The dog whimpered in pain and licked the tall man's face.

"It's quite nasty, actually, but I'm not a doctor, so I can't help," Bernardt apologized.

"Can't you call her? He's been suffering long enough..."

Bernardt should have called Daniela to see what was taking her so long, but he didn't want to disturb her because he knew how difficult it could be to catch Katy. He often couldn't manage it himself when the cat got stubborn. Fortunately, he didn't have to ponder or decide as the doctor angrily walked into the waiting room, helmet in her hand and pushing the electric scooter. The backpack hangs over her shoulder.

At first, Bernardt didn't understand what was happening, but when Daniela handed him the backpack and the helmet, he began to understand.

"Sorry, but I couldn't catch that damned beast. She didn't even look at the soothing treat as if she knew what it was. I tried everything!"

"So you left her?" Bernardt was stunned.

"Yes, I did—that devil. Your curtains are shredded again, and your sofa is in tatters. Just forget about that beast!"

"Excuse me! Could you help my dog?" interrupted the man in the suit, who was trying to hold his dog on the chair so that the injured leg wouldn't touch anything. The dog was quite heavy, and the man was losing his patience.

The doctor decided she was done with Bernardt's case and wanted to turn her full attention to the distressed dog. Naturally, Bernard wasn't pleased with this, as he was practically scared to death.

"Can you bring him into the exam room?" she said after taking a quick look at the nasty wound and the protruding metal piece.

The man hoisted the dog onto his shoulder and followed the doctor, who put on gloves and prepared an injection. Bernardt watched from the doorway, following them.

"Daniela! I wouldn't have asked you to do this if it were unimportant! I can't go home, understand?" Bernardt pleaded.

"The dog is getting a shot now, which will ease his pain; I'll try to pull out the metal piece. Good dog!" she said, then turned to Bernardt after giving the injection. "I told you, I tried everything. As soon as she saw me, she tore up the curtain. I watched, and after she finished with the curtain, I put the treat in front of her, but she just stared at it and then at me. After that, it was the sofa's turn."

"So what should I do now?" Bernardt was shocked.

"Why can't you go home?" the stranger joined the conversation.

Daniela and Bernardt stared at the man as if they had just noticed someone else there.

"That's a long story, not important," Bernardt waved off, preventing the doctor from blurting out anything. She had already said too much.

"There's only one solution—you have to go yourself. I can't do more to help. The soothing treatment is still on the floor. If you're lucky, your cat might have eaten it, and you can easily catch her," said the doctor, focusing on the dog's paw. Bernardt still stood there helplessly, holding the helmet in one hand and the backpack in the other, missing Katy.

"What is this thing he stepped on? A metal piece?" the doctor asked.

"Yesterday we were walking in the forest; something must have happened there, but I only noticed today that he was limping..." the man replied.

"Very strange, it looks like a bullet, but it's shattered," the doctor speculated, already pulling it out with tweezers and holding it up to the light.

"Bullet?" the man was also surprised.

"Yeah, see its shape? Very strange. Where did you walk? Did you hear about the shooting at the Rooster Restaurant?"

"Yes, it's terrible what's happening! Do you think it needs stitches?" the dog owner worried.

"Can't you go back?" Bernardt asked impatiently, checking his watch. "Maybe she ate it and is lying there, dazed..."

"Bernardt! I have work to do, can't you see? I need to stitch up this nasty wound. And what did you do to your beard?" The doctor finally noticed the inventor's new look. "Can't you ask someone else?"

The truth was, he couldn't. And this stranger, who seemed to be watching with interest, had already learned too much. Bernardt took a deep breath, resigning himself to the idea that he would have to return to the house, where someone might be waiting for him.

"Did you see anyone suspicious around the house?" he asked as he decided to go back for Katy himself.

"No, no one. You're acting so strangely today, Bernardt!" said the doctor, but Bernardt didn't listen. He grabbed the helmet, fastened it to his head, and, without saying a word, left the room with the electric scooter.

That was it; he had no choice. Maybe he would be lucky and wouldn't find his assassin there, or perhaps they wouldn't send someone until tomorrow.

As he sped along the road, conflicting feelings swirled inside him. Would he still return for Katy if he hadn't put the USB drive on the cat's collar? Yes, definitely. He shook his head. The thought itself was offensive. How could that cross his mind now? He knew his cat was problematic, but he believed she would outgrow her quirks, and besides, she could be a sweet little cat, too!

Was it worth risking his life for her? He would only answer yes to that, and he started worrying if the hitman would kill the cat, too. This thought made him stubborn. No, he wouldn't leave his clever cat.

He no longer cared about the invention or even his own miserable life. All he thought about was Katy, hoping she was safe.

As he maneuvered around the many tourists on the boardwalk who were disturbed from their post-lunch stroll by a speeding scooter, he felt a growing determination and strength. Whatever he found at the house, he would handle it. The key was to believe in himself, that everything would be alright.

Although drops of sweat beaded on his forehead from the stress, Bernardt only thought positively, repeating like a mantra that everything would be fine.