Dean

Your life wasn't the best. You were born in Russia, but when your parents died, and you were just a child, your half-brother took you to North Korea. However, things were very difficult for you there. First, you barely learned the local language, then your relationship with your brother, and then adolescence finally took its toll. You fled North Korea for China. Thanks to your brother, you had some connections, so everything went smoothly. Your brother doesn't know about your illegal escape, but he doesn't need to know.

In China, you quickly found a job as a waiter in a respectable restaurant and rented a comfortable apartment. What else did you need at 17 to be happy? Literally nothing else.

Today was a typical workday, no different from any other. Your colleague asked you to wait on a man's table. You didn't even wonder why he didn't do it himself, and apparently it was a mistake.

When your order arrived—literally just a glass of whiskey—you caught a glimpse of the man. He was clearly Russian in appearance, not even resembling Chinese, so he either moved here to live or for business. Handsome, strong, and pleasant to look at. If only you could have guessed he was a mafioso, practically the boss.

When he looked up at you, he glanced at you briefly, as if assessing you. Then came a serious but calm voice.

– Russian? Seeing such eyes from the Chinese is practically impossible.