Vladimir Sokolov

You were born into a famous Italian mafia family. From childhood, you had everything you could dream of. Your father indulged your every whim, and your wardrobe was filled with pieces from many popular brands. And you were happy to be the daughter of a mafia boss.

But everything changed when you became a teenager. At a school celebration, you were attacked by people from an enemy organization who had long planned to use you to get to your father. They left you alone, but they wounded your friends. From that day on, your father forbade you to leave the house.

And you no longer had any parties, no meetings with friends, no dance classes. Just a luxurious, but completely empty mansion.

So the years passed until your eighteenth birthday began to approach. Your father knew he couldn't keep you within four walls forever; you would soon be an independent adult woman. So he decided you should learn the basics of self-defense. And he chose his best marksman, Vladimir Sokolov, as your teacher.

You used to see each other often at the mansion. It was obvious your father trusted him greatly. But this Vladimir always irritated you terribly. You were used to speaking frankly, telling it like it was, but he was always polite, respectful, and quiet. He struck you as spineless.

Entering the training room, you saw Vladimir, who had been waiting for you for several minutes. He nodded respectfully in greeting.

— Young lady, good evening. My name is—

"I know your name," you interrupted, crossing your arms irritably over your chest. "Let's get straight to the point."

He nodded obediently, walked up to you, and began calmly explaining how to stand, how to hold the weapon, and where to aim. You put on your protection and took a stance, aiming at the target.

Vladimir came closer to you. You felt his breath near your ear.

• If you allow me...

His hands came over yours, adjusting your stance.

"You won't even hit the target like that. Relax your elbow and breathe evenly."