Guests exchanged uneasy glances. Murmurs turned to alarm. Officer Boris, a friend of Danil and a familiar figure to Rex, stepped forward to calm the dog, but Rex refused to back down — circling the coffin, sniffing the edges, growling along the seams. The sense that something was amiss spread among the mourners like wildfire.

Boris leaned in and placed his ear to the lid, his expression shifting from confusion to shock. Then he stepped back suddenly, eyes wide. “I heard something,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

To everyone’s shock, he ordered the lid to be opened. The room went completely still, the silence now loaded with anticipation and fear. Rex growled low as the hinges creaked open, his eyes never leaving the coffin.

And then, in the next moment, everyone screamed from what they saw inside. There, amid the satin lining, lay Danil—his eyes wide open, alive, coughing as air filled his lungs. The funeral had turned into a miraculous scene of revival, disbelief mingling with relief.

Pandemonium erupted. Some gasped, others wept openly, while a few stood completely stunned. Danil struggled to sit up, confusion etched on his face as he tried to understand the situation. Rex, however, seemed to know exactly what had happened. He wagged his tail furiously, barking joyfully now, his instincts proven right.