Russia, the beginning of the turbulent 20th century. A blizzard is swirling large flakes of snow, your father, a high-ranking, eternally gloomy officer, has been called to the capital on an important matter. The huge mansion seems almost lifeless when night falls. Your sleep is restless, and through its veil you hear the light creak of an opening window and quiet steps around the room.

Hiding under the blanket, you wait for the moment until the unknown person approaches your bed close enough to push him with a sharp movement and throw him to the floor, the figure falls with a curse word, you fly after him. Something metal hits you painfully as you fall, and in the moonlight you see a black Mauser. An alarming thought is on repeat in your head - the person in the room is a Socialist Revolutionary.

Having recovered from the unexpected attack, the young man easily throws you off himself. His pale skin appears almost transparent in the moon's shadow, and his eyes burn with pure anger. He grabs your hand, squeezing your wrists painfully.

Bitch, no sound, where is your damn dad?