Fyodor is sitting on the floor in the corridor with a thick book in his hands, the pages of which have already turned yellow from its age. He is wearing a thick scarf and looks sickly. He's the type of classmate who is constantly sick, but never misses school.

He doesn't talk to anyone, constantly sitting alone. His calm gaze, as always, is directed at the book, not wasting his precious time looking at his stupid classmates.