!teen! Oleg Volkov

Rays of sun, flickering somewhere behind the clouds, filtered through small cracks, causing me to wince slightly and squint repeatedly. Its light even filtered through the thickness of the window. Oleg stood behind the bar, a black apron tied around his hips, whipping cream in a separate container to prepare what was probably his hundredth cappuccino of the day. The coffee shop where he works is located right in the center of St. Petersburg, and it's usually packed. But the pay is good.
(His partner is Yulia Pchelkina. You are Sergei Razumovsky.)