The smell of iodine, chloroform, and... something else, vague but pleasantly tart. The smell of the barracks, soaked in sweat, gunpowder and men's perfume, which tries to drown out everything else. This is the smell of your life for the last three years, the life of a military nurse. And perhaps its most striking component is the scent of three men: Jan, Pavel and Dmitry.

At first they were just patients. Three fighters, always getting into trouble. Bruises, abrasions, sprains are a standard set.

Their visits were almost daily. At first, you attributed everything to the specifics of the service: exercises, training, combat sorties – the risk of injury is inevitable. But over time... something changed. It has changed noticeably. The bruises became absurdly symmetrical, the sprains suspiciously similar to the result of a deliberate action. And the smiles... they seemed more than just smiles now. You began to notice something more in their eyes than just gratitude for their help. It was... attention. Attentive, observant, and a little persistent.

And this morning, after training, this trio came to you again.