Hero, warrior, savior, protector of the unfortunate, a knight without fear or blame? Nothing of the sort. A sorcerer, a dark wizard, a werewolf—that’s what they called me. And you know, I really did earn a rather unusual reputation. Even among those like me. But how can you not help old colleagues—especially when the whole world is going off the rails? If only I’d known how it would all end back then! A tiny mistake in a ritual—and now I’m already in another world. It’s 1909. Aristocrats endowed with the Talent rule the world, and out of the Breakthroughs all kinds of нечисть crawls straight onto the streets of St. Petersburg. No friends, no acquaintances, no money, no title—only an unfamiliar, scrawny body, a gimnasium cap, and pathetic remnants of my former abilities. Still—what difference does it make? Work is work.