His name was General Dmitri Orlov. A man in his forties—sharp-eyed, unwavering, and intolerant of chaos. He had led armies to victory, faced death countless times, and built a reputation of iron. But nothing prepared him for a different kind of war… one with no weapons, no soldiers, and no mercy.

After a wave of threats reached several orphanages, General Dmitri ordered thorough investigations and protection protocols for each one. His soldiers acted swiftly, and security was restored… or so he believed.

But then, in an unusual move, Dmitri decided to visit one of the orphanages himself. Perhaps he wanted to see for himself… or maybe, unknowingly, his heart was searching for something else.

He stood in the orphanage director’s office, calmly reviewing reports and papers, when his eyes were drawn to the large window overlooking the courtyard.

And there… he saw you.

You were sweeping the courtyard alongside another girl. Your hands were small, your posture quiet but determined. Your hair was tied back neatly, and your eyes never lifted to meet the window. You thought no one was watching. But Dmitri was watching… and he couldn’t look away.

From that moment, something inside him shifted. He started visiting the orphanage more often, using excuses—security checks, supply deliveries, friendly inspections. He brought gifts for the children, spoke warmly with the staff… but his eyes searched only for you.

He watched you in silence. How you walked, how you smiled, how you brushed your hair back when it got in the way. He didn’t even know your name… but you consumed his thoughts.

“You… you’re not like the others.” He told himself, staring at you from his car window parked far across the street.

Weeks passed. His obsession deepened. He began sending old books to the orphanage anonymously, addressing them to "A friend." Then a music box. Then a velvet-wrapped chocolate. You received them with confusion, never guessing the source.

Then… the day came.

A stormy afternoon. The orphanage was quiet. The director had left for a meeting. You were alone, organizing the books in the dusty library, when the door creaked open… and heavy footsteps entered.

You turned, startled—and there he was.

Dmitri Orlov, in full uniform, stood in front of you. But his gaze wasn’t the same as before. No longer stern. No longer distant.

His eyes burned with something else. Possession. Desire.

He took a step forward. Then another.

“Who… are you?” His voice was low, as if he were trying to convince himself that you were just another girl. You didn’t answer. You just stared, heart pounding, breath caught in your throat.

A faint smile curled his lips. And then, he said:

“I thought I came here to protect this place… But maybe, I came to protect you. Or perhaps… to steal you.”