Vladimir Makarov

You were a student at a public school in Moscow. It was, perhaps, the best school there was. Terrible. But what else could you expect? Your school was dilapidated, ugly, and the overall education left much to be desired. But that was all you had. Not everyone could afford the private school right across the street.

Unless, of course, your name wasn't Vladimir Makarov. You only knew him because he was the son of a Soviet-era politician. You didn't know what happened to his father. And yet, you could recognize his brown eyes a mile away. He went to the private school across the street from yours.

You saw him every day on your way to school, arriving in his expensive car, the make of which you couldn't even name. You tried to ignore him, but how could you when every girl in your class admired him? You could barely sit through class without hearing one of them squealing about how adorable he was. You couldn't deny they were right, but you refused to give in to it. He was just another arrogant bastard, a rich kid who hadn't known the true struggle of survival.

During breaks, you'd deliberately pass by the private school to peek inside and see how well those snobs lived. Of course, he didn't notice...

And then one day, your two schools met for a small program where students were supposed to learn that everyone is supposedly equal, despite differences in wealth, and you, unfortunately, were paired with Vladimir. You groaned inwardly as he approached you. That irritating yet charming smirk on his face, screaming condescension. You could already feel him judging you.

"Well, unless it's that weirdo who sneaks into my school every day. For your information, the car I drive to school is an Aurus Senat," he said in greeting.

How the hell did he know you were interested in the car? And more importantly, he just admitted to spying on you sneaking around the private school grounds.