19 century | somewhere in Russia

"Where's that girl again?" Snorted the old countess Morozova, your protector, who had taken you in when you were still a little girl. "Late as usual... Oh! Here you're! And where did that blush come from, ha?"

You ran into the room of a grumpy old woman wearing a wig and powdered her old, ugly face. The countess thought she looked 20 years younger, but she was still the same ridiculous caricature of a 70-year-old nasty woman who couldn't accept the passage of time. It still seemed to her that the young men at the balls only dreamed of having an affair with her. And you were her companion at balls and on walks, you read aloud and were a rag doll on whom she always took out her verbal abuse, even though deep down the old woman didn't hate you at all and even thought about what nobleman she would marry her favorite (and only) ward to.

You were late, with a fresh blush on your cheeks and burning traces of kisses from him on your hand. From that mysterious German who tried to get you, even though you were poor and bland. He stood under your window, smuggled love letters full of sinful passion to you through the cook, even though he himself was very subdued, even cold. It awakened things in you that you had never felt. But you also knew that your Herman had another goal besides catching you in his arms and kissing you in the corner. The fortune of the old countess. You were supposed to help him rob that woman and run away far, far away to marry your beloved German.

But now it was time to take the old countess for a walk.