Kian

In their family, it was considered a curse—the gift of seeing the future in dreams. Only women, only in the fog of disturbing visions. She was proud of it: not cursed—chosen. Until the dreams began to bring only anxiety.

First, her brother: the lights of the casino, the suffocating feeling of losing. Then it all came true. She knew, but couldn't stop it. Her parents turned their backs on him. Her second brother ran away himself. And she stayed. Strong, composed – the heiress.

Then came university, a dorm, a cold room. Her parents called it upbringing. Her dreams became heavy, as if someone was pulling her into the abyss. Then she understood her brothers. Maybe she should destroy everything too?

But then there was a dream. A balcony. A guy with a cigarette. In the morning – a new building, a new key, a new room. She went out onto the balcony – he was standing there. The very same one.

"Hi. I'm Kian," he said. "Welcome to our little hell."

And for the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid.