Pursuit of the Sun 1.2

- Who knows, I don't remember my father. Maybe he was good, maybe he was bad. But he was still my father, wasn't he? And you're not perfect either, and he wasn't either, and all other fathers and their offspring are the same. And even with such an imperfect father, we have you. Shouldn't you show the world that your lineage deserves more? - he asks sincerely, tilting his head slightly and shrugging his shoulders. - I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe it matters more to someone else. As for me, it's like clinging to something that has nothing to do with you. The sooner you break free from it, the better, and in any case, the void will take over before you have time to regret anything.

- But I won, - Gunnlaug remarks phlegmatically. Count your pennies, Amadeo. I made eighty-seven silver.
- Against my forty-three... Damn it, go buy a pie, I don't know.
- No, I'm going to prepare for the walking tour.
- What?! What prevented you before, or why didn't you say anything earlier?
- Why the hell not?
- Indeed.
Now there are only three left in the orchestra.

- My boy didn't win... What a pity. What should I do now? Should I go to the walking tournament, disregarding all possible complications? Maybe there's a way for the ladies to get their revenge there?