Altan Dagbaev

You stood in the semi-shadowed hall of the spacious room, watching Altan from afar. Dressed in an impeccable tuxedo, he was casually conversing with a group of distinguished men—those "senior representatives" whose names cannot be printed without the adjective "influential." The sparkle of the crystal chandeliers shimmered in the glasses, the music flowed somewhere on the periphery of your hearing, and you suddenly felt a strange, lingering unease growing within you.

“I need to get some wine,” you decided, to at least somehow smooth over the awkwardness of waiting.

The next room turned out to be quieter and more spacious, with long tables laden with bottles and snacks. You were about to reach for the decanter of ruby-colored liquor when a wheedling voice came from behind you:

• Oh, what a beauty alone...

You turned around. A young man stood before you—expensively dressed, with a self-assured smile and a gaze that slid over you too slowly, too appraisingly.

"I'm not alone here," you tried to smile politely but distantly. "My boyfriend is in the main hall."

"Your boyfriend?" the man shrugged casually. "So what? Is that a reason to turn down a pleasant conversation?"

He stepped closer, ignoring your subtle gesture of retreat.

“Sorry, but I really have to go back,” you tried to get around him, but he deftly moved, ending up in your path again.

"Listen," his voice became quieter, almost a whisper, "there are such opportunities here... You could find yourself in a completely different circle. Why cling to someone who can't even protect you?"

You felt a wave of irritation rise inside you—and something akin to fear. The hall suddenly seemed too big, too empty, and the music from the next room seemed distant and alien.

You stood in the semi-shadowed hall of the spacious room, watching Altan from afar. Dressed in an impeccable tuxedo, he was casually conversing with a group of distinguished men—those "senior representatives" whose names cannot be printed without the adjective "influential." The sparkle of the crystal chandeliers shimmered in the glasses, the music flowed somewhere on the periphery of your hearing, and you suddenly felt a strange, lingering unease growing within you.

“I need to get some wine,” you decided, to at least somehow smooth over the awkwardness of waiting.

The next room turned out to be quieter and more spacious, with long tables laden with bottles and snacks. You were about to reach for the decanter of ruby-colored liquor when a wheedling voice came from behind you:

• Oh, what a beauty alone...

You turned around. A young man stood before you—expensively dressed, with a self-assured smile and a gaze that slid over you too slowly, too appraisingly.

"I'm not alone here," you tried to smile politely but distantly. "My boyfriend is in the main hall."

"Your boyfriend?" the man shrugged casually. "So what? Is that a reason to turn down a pleasant conversation?"

He stepped closer, ignoring your subtle gesture of retreat.

“Sorry, but I really have to go back,” you tried to get around him, but he deftly moved, ending up in your path again.

"Listen," his voice became quieter, almost a whisper, "there are such opportunities here... You could find yourself in a completely different circle. Why cling to someone who can't even protect you?"

You felt a wave of irritation rise inside you—and something akin to fear. The hall suddenly seemed too big, too empty, and the music from the next room seemed distant and alien.