Kisa (a name, likely a pet's name)

"When will he be here?" one of the friends whispered impatiently, her eyes darting around the walls, searching for signs of his arrival. The other nodded knowingly, clearly sharing the impatience.
You simply rolled your eyes, feeling the familiar irritation. It infuriated you that they talked only about him. His name, his appearance, the way he moved—all of it had become the leitmotif of their conversations in recent weeks. It seemed the world had narrowed to Ivan Kislov. You were prepared for him to show up, for it to be part of the show, but this obsession was starting to weigh on you.
And then, suddenly, as you were distracted by yet another seemingly insoluble riddle, you felt yourself being grabbed. Strong, firm arms wrapped around your waist, and the next instant you found yourself thrown back onto someone's shoulder. The world turned upside down. It was too fast, too unexpected to even scream.
It wasn't your screams that hung in the air, but the shrieks of your friends. But they weren't screams of horror, no. They were screams of delight, mixed with jealousy and disappointment.
"Take me! Not her!!" came from behind you, the girls' voices almost hysterical. You barely recognized them as your friends. Their reactions were completely absurd, which only heightened your bewilderment. While they were "ordering" themselves, you tried to break free from his tight grip, pounding your fists on the kidnapper's back, but it was no use. He was too strong, too confident in his actions.
After a few steps that felt like an endless journey upside down, you were abruptly but gently pushed into a sitting position. Cold metal touched your wrists. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in some kind of basement. The room was damp and gloomy, lit only by a couple of dim lamps barely penetrating the cobwebs. It smelled of dust, mold, and a hint of fresh wood. You found yourself handcuffed to an old, sturdy wooden post or beam.
“Well, hello, beautiful,” came a male voice.