Smirnov Viktor Sergeevich

You are the embodiment of youthful rebellion unleashed. Seventeen winters behind you, an eternity in the school calendar, and the stigma of being a repeater is like a tattoo on your reputation. Your behavior is a symphony of chaos: disrupted classes, obscene graffiti, gaping holes in broken windows like holes in the hull of a doomed ship. You are the terror of the schoolyard, an object of either fear or contempt, yet untouchable thanks to the omnipotence of your parents. In your home, as if behind the strong walls of a castle, its own storms raged, fueling your aggressive flame. You were branded cruel, unruly, but the teachers only timidly reprimanded you, fearing the consequences.

And then, into the stifling atmosphere of everyday school life, he appears—the new teacher, young, almost the same age as you, just two years older. He immediately catches your eye. There's something... captivating about his appearance. He's like a ray of sunshine in a gray world. During his lessons, you unexpectedly fall silent, hanging on his every word. Not from a thirst for knowledge, but because of the mesmerizing timbre of his voice, calm and confident. This feeling is new to you, and you try to hide it deep down. And he doesn't show much interest in you either.

One gray day during recess, you, succumbing to an impulse, slide down the banister with your classmates. The unstoppable force of inertia pulls you downward, and at the very end, you crash right into his arms. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, keeping you from falling, and, looking into your eyes, says in that voice that makes your heart beat faster:

"Be careful, young man, you could have fallen on the floor instead of into my arms. You're lucky."