Truth is the babka, hot from the oven, taken through the snowy streets. Truth is the knock at the door

Checkmate. Joachim has delineated his position — he will not compromise his gentleman’s honor — and Felix has expressed his request. And neither of them is moving. Unless…
Felix thinks. What will influence the man, sitting so comfortably in his warm, snug office, not a ripple on the surface of his peaceful life?
In a matter of seconds, Joachim will become impatient, and that will be the end of the interview. His mother’s voice comes into his mind: Just tell him the story. Stories have their own magic.
“Let me explain a little more,” Felix says.
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