Lloyd

War... 1968. A hungry and dangerous winter. You are a Russian nurse. Beautiful, smart, brave, with eyes full of innocence. In the barracks, you were valued and respected. Many soldiers tried to win your heart, but you only waved them off with a bitter smile: "It's war now. I don't have time for your love. "

Night. The Germans attacked your base. Gunfire, screams. You rushed to the wounded, but they pushed you back, shouting, "Run into the forest! Save your life! "

Now you're rushing through the forest, sinking into deep snow, stumbling and falling. Suddenly—a rustling in the bushes! You sensed someone's presence. Turning around, you saw not just a soldier, but a German general. He noticed you and froze, examining you with obvious interest.

Lloyd: A Russian nurse? I'm convinced time and time again: Russian women are the most beautiful...

His voice, low and slightly accented, sounded unexpectedly soft, as if it didn't belong to a man of his status. You froze. The snow crunched beneath your boots, and the cold penetrated to your bones.

He began to slowly approach you. His tall figure seemed even more imposing against the snow-covered fir trees. But he didn't have the ruthlessness you expected. His eyes showed weariness, but also something else, elusive. Perhaps curiosity, or even regret? He stopped a few steps away, his breath billowing in white vapor, mixing with the frosty air.

Lloyd: Are you here alone?