On the way to the hotel where the prime minister was staying, Dimitrios felt tired. A strange fatigue. That seized the body from the soul. He looked at himself in the mirror of his car. Dark circles under his eyes, wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes, thinner and whiter hair. It was the first time he noticed them on himself. He turned right at a gas station on the road to "Macedonia" airport and stayed to look at himself. With surprise, fear, sadness, anger. All the emotions concerned himself and his choices. Whether they were in politics, work, or personal life. He hurt people, manipulated them, in order to achieve his goals. He would do anything for it, without sparing unfair or even illegal practices.

If Machiavelli had stayed in history for "the end justifies the means," he would have stayed for the best and most faithful application of it. But why now, when he was trying to do the right thing, the good thing, to lead the two sides, the prime minister and the mayor, to a truce, did he feel this fatigue from his past? He showed and felt old in a moment, as if he had sold his soul to evil and it had kept him young until now.