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The golden clock, made in the shape of a miniature Big Ben, showed exactly seven in the morning. The doors beneath the dial opened, and a small toy man dressed in a black suit stepped out. In his right hand was clasped a bell. The little man's hand moved up and down and the bell rang softly.

On a huge double bed with a scarlet canopy lay a little boy in white pyjamas. The pillowcases on the pillows and sheets were the colour of gold. The duvet cover on the huge blanket was gold-coloured and smooth on the inside and scarlet and velvet on the outside.

The sound of the bell made the boy wince on the bed. He struggled to rise slightly and immediately collapsed back onto the pillow. His blond hair was dishevelled and scattered. The boy put his head under the pillows and covered himself with them.

The toy man drove back into the clock, and from there came another one just like it, but with a horn. The bravura sounds of the horn sounded quite loud.

The huge double-leaf oak doors, covered with brown varnish, swung open abruptly. A butler appeared in the doorway, a man in his mid-forties with perfectly slicked-back brown hair. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, white shirt and black tie. The butler's posture was so perfect that it looked as if he had swallowed a crowbar.

On the walls near the front door hung electric lights in the form of golden candlesticks with candles. To the right was a rack with a variety of balls, to the left was a huge chest of drawers with toys for every taste and colour. In a recessed niche next to the balls stood the full steel armour of a medieval knight.

The huge room was finished with brown wooden wall panels down to a height of two metres. Upstairs, the wall was painted a sandy colour over textured plaster.

The butler passed the toys and armour and walked past the door that led to the bathroom.

Further in, the room grew wider. To the right was a huge fireplace, above which hung a full-length portrait of a white-haired, blue-eyed, seven-year-old boy, portrayed as a medieval prince in a magnificent green camisole (the same boy who was now lying on the bed). A gold-coloured chair stood by the fireplace. The floors were tiled in burgundy with a golden pattern in the centre.

The butler reached the boy's bed and pronounced:

- Wake up! It's time to get to work, Mr Richie, don't be a slacker! You have a busy day ahead of you.

The butler reached the window and opened the burgundy drapes. Bright sunlight flooded the spacious bedroom.

- Oh, what a lovely morning!" the butler said in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone. - Wake up, sir. Don't keep your coach waiting.

The boy pulled his head out from under the pillows, yawned widely, and suddenly opened his eyes. It seemed as if the young man's eyes would fly out of his orbits, he was incredibly amazed, as if he was seeing the butler and his residence for the first time.

- Who are you? Where am I?" exclaimed the child.

The butler hummed meaningfully and smirked.

- Mr Richie, stop your tricks," he said. - Get up, wash up and come downstairs.

The child sat up abruptly with an even more surprised look and examined his hands as if he was seeing them for the first time.

- Am I a child?! - he said in amazement. - My God, I am a child!

The boy ran his right hand down his pyjama trousers, then exhaled in relief.

- Whew! At least he's a bloke!

- Mr Ritchie, this is not a funny joke," the butler said with a disgruntled tone in his voice. - There's no point in playing amnesia, it won't get you out of class.

- Erm..." said the boy. - Are you my father?

- No, sir," the butler shook his head from side to side. - I'm John, your valet. Stand up.

- All right, I will.

The boy rose and looked round the room with the genuine interest of a pioneer. There was a look of delight on his face.

- My God, I'm rich! - he said.

- Yes, sir," confirmed the butler. - But as your father says, 'You may have been born with a long silver spoon in your mouth, but you shouldn't eat only from it all your life.

The butler pulled back one of the wall panels, behind which was a huge wardrobe with an incredible selection of clothes and shoes. John took out black shorts, white trainers, a t-shirt and socks before handing them to the boy.

- Put them on, sir. Don't forget to visit the bathroom. The coach is waiting for you in the gym.

The boy looked around with bulging eyes for the bathroom. The butler thought that the child was joking, then sighed sadly and opened the door to the bathroom.

Richie stepped into the bathroom and froze for a moment. It was the most luxurious bathroom he'd ever seen, even though he was a grown man in a boy's body who'd seen a lot of things. The room was larger than the kitchen in a standard flat. It had white marble floors, marble sinks, a shower cubicle, a Jacuzzi tub, and a toilet bowl with a bidet next to it.

"I'm screwed! - he thought. - Have I really become a classic book hitman! Or is this paradise? I remember the lorry coming straight at me at high speed. You don't survive that. But I'm alive, even though my body isn't mine. I speak English fluently, though I learnt it at school and didn't really know it before... I wonder where the owner of the body went and how I ended up here."

John's stern gaze prevented the boy from overthinking, he had to wash and change his clothes.

The corridor struck Richie to the core. It was so wide that you could drive a car through it if you wanted to. The house itself was more like a palace; it was obscenely large, with high ceilings and sumptuous furnishings. There were paintings on the walls, marble statues and steel armour in niches.

After descending the marble staircase, Richie and John reached the gymnasium, which had a lot of exercise machines and sports equipment. The gym was divided into two parts: on the left side there were machines and exercise equipment, and on the right side there was a spacious free aerobics area with a mirrored wall.

Inside waited a chic, athletic blonde in a tight aerobics outfit: black tights, a white solid leotard and the same colour trainers.

The blonde smiled broadly and addressed the boy politely:

- Good morning, Mr Grosvenor. Would you mind if I took Arnold's place today? My name is Claudie.

The boy looked at the figure of the girl-coach with an unchildlike gaze. He almost drooled at the sight of her thin cloth-covered breasts, which were a solid two.

- Good morning, Claudie," Richie replied. - Sure, I'd love to practice.

He hadn't quite got used to the idea of being a fellow traveller, but he decided not to advertise it. He didn't know how it happened that after death instead of heaven or hell he managed to wake up as an eight-year-old boy. But since fate had given him a chance to live a clean life, and even in a rich family, it would be foolish not to take advantage of it.

The workout was just aerobics. The butler took off his jacket and worked out with the young gentleman. But the trainer made a serious mistake, apparently because of her young age and lack of experience, or perhaps from insidious motives, she performed the exercises with her back turned to the boy and the man. As a result, most of the workout was reduced to John and Richie staring at Claudie's taut arse.

The chamberlain and the boy turned to each other, understanding smiles creeping onto both of their faces before the boy and man's gazes returned to the adorable hemispheres.

Richie still didn't understand what was going on, but he was definitely enjoying the hit. It was his piano, he thought. No - a grand piano! After all, every hitter should have a piano in the bush. And he thought his piano was a huge pile of money.

After the training was over, John escorted his ward to his room.

- 'Mr Ritchie, you should change for breakfast and school.

Ritchie's face twisted as if he had eaten a whole lemon.

- School? Again?! - he almost shrieked. - No-o-o-o-o-o-o! No, no, no! I don't want to go to school again!

- Sir, whether you want to or not, you'll have to," the butler said dryly, going into the cloakroom. He came out with his suit hanging on the hangers. - Shower first, then breakfast, then school," he said. - In the meantime, I'll pick out a shirt and tie for you. What colour would you like today, sir? Red with speckles or classic black?

- Certainly not Donald Duck," Richie replied ironically. - 'Erm... John, tell me, how much longer do I have to go to school?

The chamberlain began to curl his fingers and mutter quietly to himself:

- One, junior high. Five years and a couple more years at Eton, unless you pass your external exams like you did for the first two grades. Or after junior school you go to Ellesmere Boarding School in Shropshire. Hmmm... Sir, you'll have to study for another eight years. Of course, you could go to college after that and become the first Duke of Grosvenor with an advanced degree. That's another four or five years.

- No, you can still go to college," the boy said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with his right hand. - There are young juicy nymphs there, who are eager for adventures on the second ninety....

- Oh, how quickly children grow up," the valet rolled his eyes at the ceiling. - Mr Ritchie, you're only eight years old and already interested in girls. I'm proud of you. But be careful, there's always a wealthy man after a wealthy man.

- I hate school! - Ritchie muttered and went to the bathroom.

As he walked, the boy pondered the problems of trapped people. They mostly had adventures and always got out of them unscathed. But instead of adventures he was going to sit at the school desk for the second time.

After a shower, the boy dressed up in an expensive suit, obviously tailor-made, which fit the boy's figure perfectly.

Kids grow up fast, so it was hard for Richie to imagine how often they had to sew clothes. He figured the price of the black and grey three-piece suit was obscenely high. The money would probably buy a used car in good condition in a third world country. And the platinum cufflinks with black diamonds, if sold, would even buy a new car.

The chamberlain helped the boy comb his hair back and styled it with hairspray. The boy looked like a polished little arsehole.

Soon the hit man found himself in the dining room. The mahogany table was incredibly large, probably thirty people could dine at it if they wanted to. Despite its impressive size, there were only two seats on the table at the furthest ends of the table. It could be said that only at the head of the table were plates and platters.

Such an arrangement of food seemed strange to Richie, but he remembered that one does not go to another's monastery with one's charter, so he ignored the incomprehension. At the moment the guy was interested in other things.

On one side of the table was already occupied, there sat a solid elderly man of about sixty years old. He was also dressed in a business suit, but beige in colour. He was not wearing a jacket, it was hanging on the back of the chair. The man was wearing only a maroon waistcoat over a white shirt.

Richie scrutinised the man he was to have breakfast with. He noted the same blond hair, slicked back and drenched in varnish, as his own. On his round face, oblong platinum-rimmed glasses covered cloudy grey eyes. A few wrinkles gave away the man's age. The boy noted the man's tall stature and slightly prominent stomach.

- Good morning, son," the older man nodded. - How are you doing?

- Erm... Good morning.

Richie was confused. He thought that since he was eight years old now, this man could be his grandfather, but in fact it turned out to be his father. It was also strange that the child's mother wasn't here.

- Enjoy your meal," the boy said, and then sat down at the table. - Why are we sitting so far apart?

- It's the Grosvenor family way," replied the boy's father. - My father brought me up that way, and his grandfather, your great-grandfather.

As he didn't know what to say to that, he decided to pay attention to the food.

At breakfast, the gentlemen were served by a maid. The chamberlain disappeared for a while. Apparently, he had gone to breakfast with the servants.

The food was in keeping with its surroundings - three changes of dishes that tasted like three Michelin-starred restaurants.

The boy followed the rule "when I eat, I am deaf and dumb" so as not to give away his ingestion. Although he wanted to ask others about many things. For example, why hadn't he seen a single holoprojector or at least an ancient flat-screen TV? And the presence of archaic radio telephones with retractable antennas in every room made him suspect that he had fallen into the past, not even into the twentieth century.

After breakfast, his father approached the boy and said:

- Have a good day, Richie. Do you remember that on Sunday we have to go to the annual charity event where the royal family will be present?

Naturally, the trainee didn't remember that. He was greatly astonished.

"The royal family?! My God! What country have I come to? If there's a royal family, English, a butler, and a papa duke... Is it really Great Britain?"

Something had to be said, so Richie slurred:

- Uh-huh...

- Don't embarrass me, son," the man said.

The young gentleman's valet entered the dining room.

- 'John,' said the gentleman to the servant, 'any news of yesterday's earthquake?

The valet answered promptly:

- 'Sir, scientists from Queen's University said that no earthquakes have been recorded in Britain. Supposedly, we have a forgotten dungeon under our house in which something exploded. That's why the house shook yesterday.

'Still, this is the UK of the past,' Richie mentally noted.

- Nightmare! - The gentleman was indignant. - 'John, get some builders to investigate the cellars. I don't want anything else exploding and hurting my family!

- It will be done, sir," the valet bowed. Then he turned to the boy and said:- 'Mr Richie, it's time for you to go to school.

- Aha...

The boy's mind was busy digesting the news. He was thinking about whether the explosion in the basement and its penetration into the body of a child from the past could be somehow connected.

Thinking about it, Richie didn't notice he was on the street. He turned back around and surveyed the house he was living in. It was indeed a huge palace. It was at least fifty metres long, with arches and marble columns and white stone walls. The huge windows told that the house had been built much later than the Middle Ages.

The house was half the battle. To the left rose the Gothic tower, which was almost a complete copy of Big Ben in a small reduction, there was even a clock. Further on there were buildings, probably stables, a garage and cottages for the staff. Many places were planted with bushes and trees, which at this time of year were covered with snow. There were lawns everywhere, which could not be seen because of the snow, and neat footpaths.After putting on their coats and walking along the alley, which was flanked by trees and bushes, in fifty metres Richie and John reached the parking area, which was flanked by a wide car road. It could accommodate four cars if they wanted to.

Waiting in the car park was a beige vintage Bentley Ait. A thought flashed through Richie's mind:

"To think of it - a petrol Bentley! What a rarity! It must be from the eighties of the twentieth century. Oh, I hope I'm just living in a family of crazy antique lovers and will soon get a normal holographic communicator with voice-net access.

Beyond the road was a view of a huge rectangular pond, more like a swimming pool. It was a hundred metres long and about ten metres wide, making it appear narrow. A large oval pond stretched perpendicularly behind the pool pond.

Richie's fertile imagination had given him a view from above. It looked as if the two ponds formed a penis with testicles. It made a smile creep onto the boy's lips. Architects' jokes aren't always obvious, especially given the scale.

- John, how big is the yard again? - Richie asked casually.

- Sir, let me remind you that Eaton Hall is four and a half thousand hectares.

Richie was frozen in a stupor. The boy's eyes widened. He couldn't imagine that one man could own so much land.

While the boy was digesting the news, they put him in the car in the back seat. John sat in the front passenger seat next to the driver. The driver himself was unremarkable, a plain cap, black suit, unremarkable appearance.

When the car started, Richie looked between the seats and examined the dashboard. The car drove smoothly, as if it were floating. Trees were planted on both sides of the mirror-like road, and beyond them was a beautiful view of snow-covered meadows and ponds. There were lanterns along the road. The hiker noted that it took the car two and a bit miles to enter the gate. Three fucking kilometres in a straight line just to get off the estate grounds!!!

At this point, Richie's right eyelid began to twitch (a nervous tic). He sat pale in his chair, gripping the leather armrest tightly.

"Three fucking kilometres to the highway! Where did I get to? Is this 'little courtyard' actually mine?!"- Richie thought.

It was a half hour drive to school. Richie looked at the cars on the way, they were all vintage and powered by hydrocarbon fuels. The boy began to realise that he must have travelled back in time. After all, the people around him can't all be so rich to drive vintage cars and pay insane taxes for using non-environmental transport. Especially all the cars were right-hand drive and from the same era, about seventies-eighties of the twentieth century.

The guy expected to see a cool elite school, but his expectations were dashed. It was an ordinary British public school. True, there was no uniform. From the holopaedia, he remembered that in England schoolchildren always wore a uniform.

It was horrible to plunge into the world of junior high school students. Richie was happy about one thing - all his classmates were a couple of years older than him - ten years old. He happened to be the smallest in the class. The other kids tried to stay away from Richie. Apparently, the kids realised the gulf between them and the heir to a huge fortune. Plus at their age, a two year difference seems like a crazy gap. Or maybe the boy had behaved in such a way before he got there that he scared off his classmates. Richie was studiously ignored and ignored. Perhaps for a child such a vacuum would be a terrible blow to the psyche, but an adult didn't care. On the contrary, he was glad that he wouldn't have to socialise with this noisy crowd of kids. He was also glad that he had a couple of years less to study.

The thing that got to Richie the most was the computer science class. The kids were brought into a classroom with computers. They were the ancient ancestors of holographic communicators. They didn't even have a graphical plug-and-play interface. A small, pudgy monitor with wires running from a boxy system unit. To start the computer you had to insert a huge magnetic floppy disc and enter commands manually! Just insane. This techno-necromancy frightened Richie, he didn't know how to handle such machinery. No wonder he got a low grade for the class.

After class, Richie was met by the same Bentley and valet John. The boy was taken to the fencing section. He had never held a sword in his hand, but during the sparring, he was surprised to notice that his body was acting on hard-wired reflexes, as if he had been fencing for years. At first the guy really lost a couple of fights, but soon he got used to listening to the sensations of his body and began to fence quite well for his age. He even won a few sparring matches.

The day ended with a return home and dinner, after which the boy collapsed into bed and fell asleep.A very busy day. Not a minute of free time. Such a schedule was unusual for a traitor. He even had no time to find out his biography and search for information.

Soon the valet woke him up and made him do his homework. Richie wanted to sleep, but had to sit down for homework. He cursed the school. Richie realised that something had to be done about it, but he couldn't think of anything yet. The word "externship" was floating around in his head, but how to do it?

The first problem with passing exams is that he studied at school a long time ago and on a different programme. He does not remember a lot of things, even more does not know. Besides, he can't be called an excellent student. And to pass exams externally allowed the best of the best, that is, for compliance will have to pass everything on the excellent. And that means that you will have to learn a huge amount of study material.

The next day everything was the same: aerobics in the morning, breakfast in a strange environment that could hardly be called family, and school.

Richie didn't have time to think about his fallenness, he had to get into the role of a boy. The boy didn't want to be discovered.

The difference from yesterday was the trip home. Richie's hope for a holiday had crumbled like a rickety pile of junk. Instead of fencing practice, he had an extra tutoring session scheduled with a tutor on handling finances.

On this day, Richie was surprised to find that he had a private office in the next room over from his bedroom, with gorgeous antique furniture and a comfortable, modern office chair. There was also an ancient computer on the desk. No, by modern standards it was the most advanced and expensive personal computer, but it was not much superior to the school equipment. The only difference was the presence of a graphical shell in the operating system, which was more convenient to work with.

Secondly, in the next room was a classroom, which for some reason had two walnut desks and the same number of chairs. In front of it on the wall was an ordinary blackboard, with an ordinary chair with a backrest and a teacher's desk beside it. The room was no smaller than a classroom for twenty people. Along the walls were cabinets with books, retorts, and chemicals. A plastic human skeleton was placed in the corner.

Waiting for the boy in the classroom was an elderly man in his sixties. He had grey hair and a neat beard. Brown eyes were covered by round glasses. The man had a stout build, medium height and a wide-skinned face. He wore a grey suit with brown leather patches at the elbows.

- Well, well, well," the tutor said. - Good afternoon, Richard, have a seat at the table, we are going to have a lecture on finance today.

- Good afternoon.

Richie nodded and sat down at the nearest table.

- So, what are we waiting for? - Tilting his head, the tutor looked at the boy over his glasses. - Open your desk drawer, take out your writing utensils and get ready to write down the lecture.

- Yeah, yeah, just a second.

Richie didn't know that he had to write something, but after the tutor's words he looked into the desk drawer. There he found a stack of thick notebooks and writing utensils.

The tutor began to draw chalk charts on the blackboard and started the lecture in a rather tedious voice:

- Last time we finished with the problems. Let's look at example number twelve. Your company is failing. Sales are down fifty per cent because of high prices. Revenues are falling and shareholders are demanding your immediate resignation. So the question is, how do you get the board on your side and avoid bankruptcy?

Richie was dumbfounded by these tasks for an eight-year-old boy. He tried to think of something, but fell into an abyss of despair. The boy's eyes glazed over.

- Richard, I'm waiting for your answer," the tutor said.

- Erm...," the boy said. - I'd probably bribe him.

- It won't help! - said the tutor. - Richard, think about it.

- Erm... Should we hire detectives to dig up dirt on the directors and blackmail them? We should also hire hitmen to kill the most recalcitrant directors.

- Richard, firstly, it's unethical, and secondly, it would be prosecuted. That's not the way to do it in a civilised society. And it's not going to help us fight bankruptcy. Let's take the following options.

- Well..." Richie scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. - I think we should start a rumour that our firm is merging with a larger company, and when the stock rises in value, sell it quickly.

- Richard, that's also unethical and unacceptable," said the tutor. - Besides, you can also go to jail for such frauds and they don't always work. Next answer.

Ritchie was not a financier before he got there, so this task was incredibly difficult for him. But the guy was in his second year of higher education and they taught economics. He tried to remember something from there, but he couldn't. Finally, his brain came up with something.

- I know! He said. - We need to restructure, optimise the company's logistics and reporting schemes, cut staff and look for lower-priced suppliers to reduce the cost of production.

Richie exhaled a sigh of relief and thought his answer was perfect. But the tutor had a different opinion.

- On the one hand, Richard, you have a good point. But in a crisis situation there is no time to restructure and optimise schemes. Besides, during the reform period, which is at least three years, the market can move so far ahead that the company, having overcome the old problems, will face new ones and end up bankrupt anyway. Any other suggestions?

Ritchie began to recall real companies and how they got out of similar situations. He remembered one company that came out of a deep crisis and became incredibly successful. The boy immediately hurried to voice his thoughts based on the article he had read in the holopedia:

- In a situation like this, you need to strategise not on solving immediate problems, but on working for the future.

- Well, well, curious, - the tutor became animated, he obviously liked the answer. - Continue to develop this topic.

- We need to create alliances for the production of the most modern products, so that in the future we can produce an advanced and popular product. For example, everyone now uses computers at most with a graphics shell. It is necessary to invest money in the development of a pleasant and easy-to-use operating system and programmes like "Turn on and work", to create a base for the programmes with their own processors, boards and the like. And even though the firm will have huge loans, it will not only recover from the crisis, but will become very successful within a few years.

- That's a good answer, Richard," the tutor smiled warmly at the boy. - I'm glad that our lessons were not in vain and that something lingers in your mind.

- Erm... Teacher, may I ask you a question?

- Of course, Richard, that's why I'm here, to answer your questions.

Richie wanted to find out about his financial situation and found the timing very good. He asked:

- Sir, are you familiar with the state of my family's financial affairs?

- 'Yes, of course,' replied the tutor. - 'I am, after all, a professor of economics and your family is one of the top ten richest in the UK.

- Sir, can you tell me about my family's business?

- Why not? - shrugged his shoulders. - I can.