The last lives appeared with clarity in the creature’s mind as well, not just Gábor’s. A boring philosopher, arrogant, always on his high horse. Then his girlfriend, a law student. Then the girlfriend’s childhood friend. Then her twin sister. At last, he approached a woman in a bar: willful eyebrows, pitch-black hair. They went to a hotel room, and the monster took the woman’s place.

The woman was Mr. Kővári’s wife.

They fucked the night before coming to the cellar. Mr. Kővári didn’t notice the difference, he had no idea that his life’s worth was being measured, and he was seconds away from being consumed by the terror that had become his wife. During intercourse the creature kept wondering the whole time whether the winemaker was worth devouring. The creature ate his semen to get a taste.

The man was painfully boring, a pretentious asshole, and the creature didn’t desire that life at all. Not even the collection of tastes stored on the man’s tongue was worth the effort.

The complex ended with the woman sitting in the car, watching Mr. Kővári leaning on the hood of his Porsche, watching the chalk-white mountain.

A car was approaching. Gábor realized that he was seeing himself arriving on the scene, through the eyes of an aeons-old creature.

That’s where the complex ended.

The creature adopted every characteristic of its victim: tastes, moods, illnesses. And since Mr. Kővári’s wife loathed alcohol the creature declined to be present at the tasting. But had it drunk from the Emerald complex it would have found what it had been seeking for such a long time: its true self.

Mr. Kővári stared ahead, his eyes glassy and empty, like a dead animal’s. He slowly slipped off his chair and spread across the floor unconscious.

Gábor felt a desire to lie down beside him and just let go. He burped but didn’t vomit. He let the complex wash through him like a wave, purify him, then retreat. He stood up from his chair, which tipped over with a loud clunk. He felt dizzy. He took a hesitant step and grabbed on to the edge of the table. He looked around the room timidly. Mr. Kővári appeared dead. Cseszi was feigning sleep in a corner, but every now and then she would lift the bottle up to her lips and take a sip from the Lily complex. Boss was snoring in a corner. Daniella was drinking the Indigo and masturbating on the floor. The telepathic noise was only a murmur now. Everyone had temporarily lost their conscious self either in sleep or in the trance of a complex.

‘It’s only the two of us now, my friend,’ Zanó smiled. He was the only sober person in the cellar.

Gábor wanted to say something but his tongue wouldn’t move. He felt ants running around in his mouth.

‘Come with me,’ Zanó said. ‘Our friends will be just fine here.’