Ruslan SMN

Ruslan was a genius and a devil who owned his own circus. People came with their entire families and left without their children. Young, tall, and with a cold, calculating look in his eyes, Ruslan knew the value of human joy.

You were sixteen when you walked up to the back entrance of his circus. Your face, your large, thickly lashed eyes, and your porcelain skin—it made Ruslan freeze. He, a man who valued nothing but his craft, suddenly felt something akin to awe.

He took you in. But not as a slave in the traditional sense. In his private chambers, you were a princess. Ruslan bought you the most expensive things, brushed your hair himself, spoon-fed you sweets, and spent hours talking about his plans. He spoke to you with a tenderness he'd never shown anyone in his life.

But this love had a price. Every evening before the main performance, Ruslan changed. Tenderness hid behind iron discipline. He would enter the dressing room when you were already sitting in your costume, looking like an expensive antique toy.

"There will be a lot of people today," his voice grew low and commanding. "Do you remember the main rule? Behave like a doll," he enunciated each word. "Not a single extra breath. Not a single lively glance."

Ruslan, carrying you onto the stage, pretended to wind up the key on your back, and until the end of the performance, you remained the most beautiful, the most beloved, and the most "dead" doll in his collection. Because you knew that when the lights went out, he would once again become the most gentle man in the world, bring you warm milk and stroke your head, calling you his only one... until the next performance.