The next morning, Daiki arrived at their new office at the assigned address. It was located in an old building, formerly occupied by a "Savings Bank" branch, but now renovated for the Kairosu Group. The office was not yet fully equipped, but it was already bustling with activity. Daiki met three of his future colleagues.
Madoca Kinoshita, a Japanese man like himself, immediately encountered his venomous sarcasm. Madoca was clearly unhappy about being brought to this "prison of peoples." He was a nationalist to the core and looked down on everyone around him as if they were obligated to sacrifice themselves on the battlefield in the name of the emperor. Daiki, in his laziness, didn't bother trying to meet his expectations.
Karl Stein, a German, surprised Daiki with his punctuality and meticulousness. He was as precise as a Swiss watch, arriving at work on time and leaving promptly at 6 PM, never a minute early or late. However, when Karl shed his strict suit and went for his evening stroll, he transformed into a cheerful and boisterous character. Daiki couldn't help but wonder how this German managed to combine such strict discipline with a lighthearted nature.
And lastly, there was Sergei Krupicyn, a Russian, who for reasons Daiki couldn't fathom, had also decided to work for the Kairosu Group. Sergei was a very hardworking and kind fellow, but in Daiki's eyes, he looked like a lost soul in this unfamiliar world. He spoke English poorly, and Japanese was a dark forest to him. Daiki tried explaining a few Japanese words to him, but Sergei only thought carefully, looking at him with a request to repeat it once more.
Despite their differences, Daiki had a feeling that they would enjoy working together. He felt like he was on some strange team of people he'd never encounter in ordinary life.
At the end of the workday, Daiki went for a walk around Moscow. He was surprised at how quickly the city had changed. Old buildings were renovated, and new shops and restaurants had appeared. But this city had something melancholic, something unsaid. Daiki felt Moscow remembered its grandeur but hadn't managed to regain it.
He went into a cafe and ordered tea with a pastry. He watched the people around him. These were not the "Red Army soldiers" that Daiki had in his head from history textbooks. They were ordinary people trying to live in this new world.
Daiki thought about his future. He knew he would be there for half a year, then return to Tokyo. But could he leave this city without an answer?
He left the cafe and looked up at the darkening sky. He felt he was only beginning to get acquainted with this world, this city, these people.