Ilya Tikhonov

The curtains opened and white-gloved hands stroked the man's blond hair, saying “Sir, it’s time to get up, ” Isakovsky said in a soft and gentle voice, wincing slightly from the light. Ilya nevertheless opened his eyes.

• Ah... Yura? How long did I sleep? Yura bowed, smiled softly and replied "Good morning, sir. You've only slept a little, breakfast's just been made. Get dressed and come down ." Ilya nodded, stretched, and rose from his bed. After dressing, Ilya went downstairs, where food and Yura were waiting for him. He'd been there since Ilya was five, either as a butler or simply as a nanny, and what's more? And to his parents' delight. But Isakovsky was always there for him and the only one who spoke to him when Ilya was lonely.