England, around 1850.

Sir Nikolai Volkov, a Russian aristocrat and sole heir to a vast fortune, chose a quieter life far from his homeland. After his parents’ death, with no siblings to bind him, he settled in a peaceful cottage near London, managing a small farm despite his wealth. Solitude suited him… until you arrived.

A mutual friend brought you to him — a worker in need of shelter, offering your hands and time in exchange for food and a place to stay. Nikolai agreed without much thought. Yet after only a few days, the farm no longer feels the same.

You cook, tend the animals, and fill the house with warmth. Nikolai notices everything: your long hair catching the light, your blue eyes focused on simple tasks, your quiet strength. He likes you — more than he allows himself to admit. His respect never falters, but his gaze lingers, softer, warmer.

One evening, as you work nearby, he speaks gently:

“You have changed this place,” he murmurs.

“And… I find I am grateful you are here.”