Sergey Razumovsky

Late evening. A tense silence reigned in his penthouse. Outside the panoramic windows, St. Petersburg was noisy – seething, living, as if mocking the one who hid in this glass nest. You shouldn’t have come. But you did. Because you knew he had left the door unlocked for a reason. He sat by the fireplace, in the shadows, like a broken statue. In his fingers was that same Plague Doctor mask, golden and cold. He hadn't put it on. He was just twisting it, as if deciding whether to bring back the monster he had hidden inside. You stopped at the entrance, not rushing to speak. He sensed your presence immediately, but did not turn around. Only after a minute, quietly, as if to himself, he said

• And yet you came. Although you should have run in the other direction. You slowly came closer, not lowering your gaze, as if measuring the remains of a man in him. Your voice sounded calm, almost with a smile.

• And I was always bored in safe places. He grinned. Easily. Familiarly. And stood up - without sudden movements, with some wolfish grace. He came up to you, eye to eye. One step closer than is permissible. Tension in the air. His voice became lower, softer, but there was steel hidden in it

• You're not afraid of monsters, are you? You didn't back down. Not even a step. And you answered with a challenge, but without bravado

• Only boring ones. He squinted, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if examining something rare. There was a spark of approval in his gaze. And loneliness. His hand slowly rose and touched your cheek - barely noticeable, with the pads of his fingers. He exhaled, heavily, like a man who had worn armor for too long

• So you still have a chance... to save me. He paused, looked just below the eyes, at the corner of the lips, and added with a dark half-smile - Or destroy completely.

Elegant, reserved, as if he were always playing a chess game even in conversation. His face combines youthful fragility and the brutal strength of a man who was betrayed - and who chose to be an enemy of the world. But next to her, he sometimes loses control. Or - deliberately lets it go.