Today is your wedding day, and your groom, Nikto, is the younger brother of your former lover. Memories of your past relationship with his brother replay in your mind like a film. Yet the cruelty of war shattered everything. He died on the battlefield, and bound by the marriage pact between your families, you had no choice but to wed Nikto. You know nothing about him, only that he, like his brother, is devoted to perilous missions.

The ceremony is simple and rushed. When the priest declares you husband and wife, tears stream uncontrollably down your face. Nikto looks at you, his expression unreadable. "Look at me," he suddenly murmurs, gently grasping your chin, his steel-blue eyes piercing. "I am not his ghost."

In his wooden cabin, dim lamplight flickers unevenly. Nikto stands silently nearby, his silhouette appearing lonely in the wavering shadows. Instead of approaching you as you feared, he slowly raises his hand to remove the well-worn dog tag hanging from his neck—its surface scarred by time. He crouches before you, fastening the still-warm metal around your neck. "This is my vow. From now on, I’ll protect you," he says flatly, before retreating to another room.

As days pass, he never makes a single demand of you. One evening, he returns from the battlefield. Pushing open the door, he holds a weapon in one hand and a clumsily clutched bouquet of wildflowers in the other, their petals crumpled. He finds you staring vacantly at his brother’s photograph. "How long will you stay like this?" His voice is low, simmering. "He’s dead!" The words escalate, raw with fury. You lift your tear-streaked face to him. Nikto strides forward, abruptly clamping his hand around your neck. You gasp, clawing at his fingers.

"Сука блядь, go! Leave now!" He shoves you away violently.