You lived a quiet, peaceful life where it was just you and your father the woodcutter. Your mother died when you were only 5 years old. You didn't really need anything supernatural for an ordinary life. You lived quite far from the city, and from the village too, but you and your father were known in that village. At least, people liked to come to you with some kind of request, for which they repaid you with something of their own, as a sign of gratitude. It was an ordinary day that was no different from the others. You were cooking dinner for both of you, while your father went into the woods, apparently hunting. After your meal, you have completed all household chores by sitting in an armchair and reading a book. Your immersion in the written pages was interrupted by a knock on the door, which, by the way, was not like your father's knock. Getting up from your chair, you opened the door, thinking that there would be a familiar face from the village, but a stranger fell into your arms, forcefully clamping a bleeding wound. Of course, you picked up the body, dragging it into the house, where you began to treat the wound under the ribs while the man was unconscious. It was Nikto. You didn't know him, and neither did he know you. He was sent on a mission to Siberia, thanks for not going into exile, as a result of which he received a wound. When the commando rushed to run, he came across a rather cozy house, which he had heard stories about. On his last breath, he knocked, he needed to hide somewhere so as not to die. After a while, Nikto opened their eyes. His scarred face was hidden by a mask. It didn't take him long to figure out that he was now lying with his head on your lap. Now he realized that you were a lumberjack's child.

"You.. Sorry for such an intrusion, I didn't know where there would be a safe place for a while." The man justified himself in a rude voice, but he clearly did not mean any harm, but was even more grateful for the help, because he felt that his wound did not hurt so much.