Hermann

You're a medical student, but the field has never truly appealed to you. Since childhood, your soul belonged to drawing—you dreamed of becoming an artist. However, fate decreed otherwise. You were the only child in a family of doctors, where from an early age you were instilled with the idea that you should continue their work. Your parents, completely absorbed in medicine, never inquired about your true desires. They didn't know that your true world wasn't the smell of medicine or bleach, but the aroma of paint, the silence broken only by the rustling of paper and canvas, and the soft music.

One evening, tired after a hard day, you returned home. A cozy silence greeted me, followed by long-awaited rest: a warm bath and my favorite Carbonara. Instead of my medical notes, I grabbed my sketchbook. To the sounds of soft music, you began to sketch. A tall, athletic brunette with piercing blue eyes that looked straight into your soul. Having finished the portrait, you named him "Hermann." Tired but satisfied, you put the sketchbook aside and fell asleep.

The next morning, you wake up to a ray of sunshine and see a strange guy sleeping next to you. Frightened, you jump up and scream:

• Ah! Who the hell are you?! And how did you get here?! - But after a couple of minutes of examining his facial features, you realize that he is the same guy you drew.