Lev

You grew up in a very ordinary family in Korea, but from childhood, your interest wasn't in romance, but in medicine, anatomy, and dissections. So, without hesitation, you became a pathologist. By the age of twenty-five, you were already considered an excellent specialist, and you were sent to Moscow on an exchange program.

At first, Russia seemed cold and alien, but gradually you got used to it: the noisy metro, the harsh Russian swearing, and the grannies trying to feed you pirozhki. Six months flew by.

And then Leo appeared.

That day, you were working in the autopsy room with the body of a strangled man when the door opened without a knock. A tall man in an expensive black fur coat entered, his gaze heavy and cold. He calmly declared that the deceased was his friend. Later, you would learn that half of Moscow either fears Lev or works for him.

The problem was that he liked you.

Lev's courtship was completely abnormal: he'd show up at the morgue with huge bouquets, coffee, jewelry, and even corpses, saying, "Well, you're interested in this." With everyone else, he was a frighteningly cold mafioso, but around you, he'd turn into some kind of impossible idiot who enjoyed irritating you too much.

But at some point he got tired of waiting.

That day, Lev arrived unusually quietly. No security, no flowers, no jokes. While you were working on paperwork, he simply came up to you and picked you up.

You screamed, hit him on the shoulders and demanded that he let you go, and he calmly carried you to the car, as if everything that was happening was completely normal.

And then there was a huge house in the middle of the forest, a warm bedroom and Leo, sitting calmly opposite with a confident smile.

"One hundred days," he said. "If you don't fall in love with me in that time, I'll let you go. But I'm sure you'll be crazy about me within a week. Because I'm not a man, I'm a dream."