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The steering wheel of the car stopped obeying Bulov, so the director decided to leave the car at the restaurant and walk, luckily Kasym lived in the center, nearby. But after a block, Bulov saw the woman of his dreams and went after her. The woman was a professional, hoping for an acquaintance, she walked slowly, but Bulov thought she was speeding like an express train. Staggering from side to side, he stubbornly followed her, but caught up with her only in the old city district, when the woman, convinced that she was being approached, simply stopped. Bulov circled her for a long time, then tediously seduced the woman, from those women who make their piece of bread with butter on the panel, and was very proud of himself when he convinced her to take him home. He offered her twenty-five coins, so he liked her. If the woman demanded payment, the night of adventures would have cost Bulov only five coins, and twenty would have remained for a familiar venereologist. But the pleasure of being able to persuade another woman also cost something, let it be an extra twenty coins.

Slums, they are everywhere – slums. In a sober state, Bulov would not risk showing up here, but he was "knee-deep" in drunk. After a long wandering through crooked, tangled alleys, passages, through yards merging into each other, Bulov would not have found his way back even if he had been threatened with execution, the woman finally led him to her small, tiny apartment, where she honestly earned the unexpectedly inflated amount.

Bulov felt like going to the toilet. It turned out that all "amenities" were in the yard.

– You'll go out to the yard and fifty meters to the right, – the woman explained to him readily.

– What if I run out in just my underwear, I'll even put shoes on one bare foot, nothing?

– Who will you see here at such a late hour, your acquaintances, or what? The night is warm, run like that, just don't fall there. Maybe I should escort you? – she worried.

– Are you crazy? – Bulov was offended. – I'm as sober as a glass.

As soon as Bulov crossed the threshold of the house and found himself in the yard, the fresh night air played a nasty trick on him: instead of sobering him up, it further dazed him. Bulov went left, and having reached the neighboring yard, remembered that he needed to turn right, and turned right, wandered through the yards for a long time, finally, not finding the toilet and unable to endure any longer, he relieved himself in front of someone's window, not seeing a grandmother in the window, apparently suffering from insomnia, and now she was fearfully crossing herself at the sight of such shamelessness of a strangely dressed creature… And warm autumn nights become cold far beyond midnight, sometimes even frosts occur. Bulov, trembling, began to lose his fleeting body, wandered from yard to yard, from alley to alley, but only completely confused himself in the yards, forgot what the house where he was so warmly greeted looked like. To warm himself up, he started running, examining the houses, looking for "his," but the alleys unexpectedly began to end in dead ends, the houses threateningly loomed, the alleys became all too narrow, he could already touch the opposite sides with outstretched arms at the same time. Bulov began to feel that the houses were trying to catch and flatten him into a pancake. He suddenly imagined that he had stumbled upon an ancient labyrinth, a trap from which there was no escape. Losing control over himself, going mad, he began to wander and shout:

– Ariadne!.. Ariadne!.. Save me!

His cries rang out loudly in the silence of the night, though such screams were not uncommon in these slums. Perhaps a startled bystander, awakened in the dead of night, might have wondered upon hearing such an unfamiliar name, but in the slums, women often bore exotic names: Rosa, Lily, Hortensia, Traviata, Viola… In every dark corner, Bulov began to imagine a lurking Minotaur, awaiting human sacrifices. For some reason, Bulov didn't fancy being devoured, so he darted from side to side, grinding his teeth and feverishly trying to recall the name of this woman, but all that echoed in his mind was, 'Ariadne! Ariadne!'

Suddenly, two enormous yellow eyes flashed in the alleyway, and something growled and sneezed as it slowly moved towards Bulov. Seeing this, Bulov screamed madly and fled down the alley, only to collide once again with the wall of a building. Feeling halfway consumed, Bulov turned back, bidding farewell to life, to the stage, to his wife and children, and… unexpectedly burst into song: 'Oh joy, my life!' Before him stood a police car. Bulov dashed towards it like he had only ever dashed towards his mother in his early childhood.

A policeman stepped out of the car.

– 'Where's the split?' he asked dryly and routinely.

– 'That's exactly what I want to find out from you!' exclaimed Bulov.

– 'What, you mean to say we split you?' the policeman took offense threateningly.

– 'No, I always undress by myself.'

– 'Did someone hit you on the head by any chance?'

– 'No, I just got lost…' Bulov hesitated. 'Do you know where a certain whore lives around here?'

– 'If you'd asked about a decent woman, I could have told you – there's one right here, in this house, paralyzed since childhood. But as for whores in this area, there's no shortage. What kind do you want: young, old, blonde, brunette, redhead?'

– 'Blonde!' Bulov cheered. 'Looks like my first wife.'

– 'I never slept with your first wife or your second. Describe your first wife, maybe we'll find your whore based on her.'

– 'Slender, tall, young, with a face that was still… intelligent, eyes like two blue stars…'

– 'Well, well, aren't you a poet!' laughed the policeman. 'That's Kato, daughter of an enemy of the people. Be careful, she might recruit you… as a spy. Get in, we'll take you.'

Gunshots rang out nearby.

– 'It's starting again!' grumbled the policeman. 'Get in quickly, I said, we're taking you to the blue-eyed one.'

Bulov quickly hopped into the police car, and within minutes, Bulov found himself circling Kato's house, they were on the scene. The policeman ascended the stairs first and pounded on the door as hard as he could. There was dead silence behind the door.

– 'Kato, open up!'

The policeman hammered on the door with his mighty fist, like a sledgehammer.

– 'Did she fall asleep or what, damn whore!'

It was three in the morning. Bulov stood behind the policeman's broad shoulders, trembling like a leaf, cursing his love for adventure. For ten minutes, there was no sign of life from behind the door, and for those ten minutes, the policeman pounded relentlessly with his fearsome fist. Finally, a disgruntled voice came from behind the door:

– 'Couldn't find a better time for a visit?'

The door opened, and a startled Kato peered out through a crack. Upon seeing the policeman, she yelled:

– 'What the hell…'

– 'Open up, open up, witch!'

Kato swung open the door and yelled even louder:

– 'How many times have I told you not to come in the middle of the night, you damned pimp!'

– 'Shut your trap, I'm here on business.' The policeman nudged Bulov forward. 'Is this your client?'