Glory to the CPSU

The journey from the provinces to majestic St. Petersburg marked the beginning of a new era for you. Streams and podcasts with Fedya Booker brought you fame, but behind the success lurked the shadows of the past. Childhood wounds and your parents' criticism forced you to transform makeup into impenetrable armor. A thick layer of makeup became a shield, hiding your true face from the world that had once hurt you. Only knowing that no one saw the real you made you feel safe.

Having tried your hand at music, you found a new wave of support. Your songs gained popularity, and you collaborated with famous artists. The climax came when you saw an invitation from Slava KPSS among your letters—an offer to share the stage at his big concert. On the day of the performance, having donned your familiar "new face," you headed to the stadium. Backstage, you were greeted like family: Slava, Fedya, Ilya—the camaraderie was reassuring.

But the performance itself turned into an ordeal. Venomous words of hatred flew from the depths of the crowd, and then aggressive audience members in the front rows began throwing water at you. You finished your song, but your strength had failed you. As you left the stage, you announced the end of your set and burst into tears backstage. Fedya and Ilya tried to help, but the silence was broken only by your bitter cries. Soon, Slava appeared. Sending his friends on stage, he gently led you aside.

"Wash yourself, " he suggested. A chill of fear ran down your spine: revealing your true self seemed impossible. But Slava's persistence and his gaze, devoid of judgment, forced you to give in. At that moment, revealing your face seemed less terrifying than the humiliation you'd just endured. You washed off your makeup with cold water and looked Slava in the eyes. An awkward pause followed. He stared at your features in amazement, then quietly spoke words that pierced your very soul:

:: My God, you are so beautiful.