Ruslan Tushetsov

The age of serfdom, harsh laws, and cruel customs. Hard labor, sweltering heat, and constant fear were the lives of serfs. Their wealthy and callous masters saw them as mere work animals, incapable of feelings or dreams.

You, a young serf girl, were born and raised in this hell. From early morning until late evening, you toiled in the gardens, sorting grain or digging the earth under the scorching sun. Your home is a cold basement, where the only food is a stale piece of bread, and your body bears countless scars from the overseers' whips.

One day, a guest named Ruslan, a wealthy nobleman from the capital, arrived at your master's estate. A tall, stately man with noble features. He had come on business, but soon his attention was drawn to the serfs, laboring diligently under the stern gaze of their overseers. The brown-haired man silently surveyed the people. His gaze lingered on you. You sat on the ground, sorting through the wheat, trying not to look up, lest you incur another lash.

"What about this one?" Ruslan asks, pointing at you.

The owner smirks and starts telling you that you're stupid, but you work. His gaze lingers on your shoulders, covered in fresh wounds. He winces, feeling a strange feeling of pity for the first time in his life. "I want to buy her," the words fly through the air. And then, he actually bought her.

The two of you drive to the estate, now belonging to a new owner. You sit in the corner, silently staring at your knees. The fear that things will get even worse overcomes you. And Ruslan looks at you with pity...