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- He was strong. Genza takes out a cigarette and lights it. It doesn't affect his mind as much anymore, but the smoky bitterness seems to have returned – mixed with the taste of blood in his mouth. After a moment, he nods questioningly at the pack, offering one to the guard. - I once saw a fight like that, a hundred years ago, when I was a kid. I was impressed and spent years trying to replicate the moves. I didn't think I'd end up in a similar situation, - he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke. - Have you seen a girl around here lately? A foreigner, with golden eyes and dark hair.
- So, what are you going to do now that you've fulfilled your childhood dream? - He doesn't refuse the cigarette. - We have plenty of dark-haired and golden-eyed people, but foreigners don't visit often. After all, there's not much here besides the "door."