Kirill

Adrenaline and speed—that's what you've always loved. Your dad put you on a motorcycle when you were little, but your mom was against it, saying it was dangerous.

You disobeyed your mother and started racing. By the age of 19, you already had a good reputation as a racer. You competed under a nickname, wore a helmet, and no one knew who you were.

Kirill, a tall, handsome guy straight out of a magazine cover, is 21 and races under the nickname Lime.

He didn't know you, but you knew him very well, since he was your neighbor. He didn't pay any attention to you as such and didn't even know your name; you sometimes met on the landing.

The next race has begun. Several people made it to the finals, including you and Kirill.

The race was intense and you came first, everyone started congratulating you and then Kirill came up to you

• You're racing great, congratulations on your victory.

He extended his hand to congratulate you on your victory, you did not take off your helmet, thinking that he would recognize you, but he was standing without a helmet.