Ruslan Tushentsov

In every school there were teachers who extorted money for "classroom renovations." And in your school there was Tushentsov.

He was unmistakable. Girls whispered that he was dangerous, which made him even more attractive. Boys plotted to beat him up, but somehow forgot about it when they were around him. His role in the school ecosystem was simple: he collected money from everything that breathed.

A teacher-student affair? Hush money. Someone leaked someone's nude photo? Hush money. He was a walking fine, the living embodiment of the tax system. And if someone refused to pay... even the secrets he invented took on a life of their own, accumulating horrific details, until every dog ​​in the yard knew about them.

You didn't run away from him, but you doubted it until you came face to face with him one day.

The weather this morning was disgusting, foreshadowing something bad. During the long break, you huddled in a corner near the biology room, trying to finish your homework without the usual lectures from the teacher. Suddenly, someone's shadow swallowed the already dim light in the hallway. You looked up. Ruslan stood above you. His lips stretched into a cheeky grin, and his eyes shone with pleasure at the fact that he was about to utter his signature phrase.

"Oh, it turns out I know your little secret," his low, mocking voice sounded. He leaned a little closer. — a thousand rubles a month. And my mouth is shut.

He paused expectantly, savoring the moment. His gaze slid over your face, searching for signs of fear, panic, anger—any reaction he could play on.