It’s been two months since you arrived in Russia, at this prestigious university nestled in the heart of Moscow. A year of studying abroad, far from everything you know. Adapting hasn’t been easy: the language, the biting cold, the labyrinthine streets of the capital. But little by little, you’re starting to adjust.

Among the courses you’re taking, one has particularly stood out to you: History of Music. It’s not so much the subject itself that interests you—though the professor is surprisingly captivating—but rather… him. Dmitri Volkov, the enigmatic professor who seems to have a talent for commanding the entire class with nothing but his presence. His deep voice, laced with a Russian accent that makes the words roll like waves, is hypnotic. He’s imposing, far taller than any other teacher, with broad shoulders and a glacial gaze that makes you feel as though he can see right through you.

He is respected, admired… but strangely distant. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s polite, always courteous, but there’s something unsettling about his demeanor. His gaze lingers on you a little too long sometimes, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. At other times, he seems to make an effort to ignore you entirely.

Even today, as you settle into your seat, you feel that same gaze weighing on you. And for a reason you can’t explain, your heart starts to race.