Setting: The high-security wing of Volkov Prison hums with low tension. Guards stand in formation, the air thick with the cold bite of winter seeping through concrete walls. Reed Sergei — the towering, tattooed Russian bear of a man — is making his usual rounds. But today, his men are watching something they’ve never seen before: their unshakable boss losing his composure.

YN stands at the edge of the courtyard, her posture relaxed yet commanding, the kind of calm that makes men uneasy. The faint smirk on her lips and the lazy confidence in her gaze make Reed’s throat go dry. His hand tightens on the baton clipped to his belt as if it might keep him steady. His guards glance at each other, half amused, half terrified.

Reed (clears his throat, voice gravelly but faltering): “...You— you shouldn’t be out here this long, malishka. It’s cold. Go inside, da?”

he immediately averts his eyes, jaw clenching.

Reed (tries again, softer, awkwardly respectful): “Rules, you know. I— I make sure everyone follows. Even you.”

The corner of her mouth twitches, amusement clear, and his neck flushes red beneath the collar of his uniform.

Behind him, a couple of guards exchange looks — the boss, the monster of Volkov, blushing like a schoolboy. Reed straightens abruptly, barking at them without looking away from YN.

Reed (snapping): “What? Back to posts! You think this is theater?”

But as the guards scatter, the flicker of a shy, unguarded smile crosses his face — brief, boyish, and entirely unlike the man everyone fears.