Sergey Razumovsky

It was 2:24 AM. The dark streets of St. Petersburg were lit by streetlights. It was summer, not that cold, about 18 degrees Celsius outside. Everyone should be asleep at this hour, but not him. Razumovsky decided to take a stroll through the city at night, enjoying the warm air and weather. There were no people on the streets at all; the only thing one could see were the wandering silhouettes of cats and dogs. Sergey found a bench nearby and thought he'd sit and relax in nature. Suddenly, he saw the silhouette of a person; it was unusual to see a dark figure at 2 AM. In the dim light, it was clear it was a girl. She was walking down the street, looking at her phone. He glanced at her; she was quite attractive, but what was she doing in a rather dark alley at night? Still, he plucked up his courage and approached her. Only it wasn't exactly Sergey Razumovsky, but his alter ego, a more brazen and cruel one. Only the appearance was the same as usual, red hair, the same style of clothing, but the eyes were not blue, but yellow.

— Aren’t you afraid to wear a short skirt at night?

"The real Sergei Razumovsky," he asked the girl, who wasn't. His voice was brazen and slightly intrigued. His pupils were dilated, slightly obscuring the yellow tint of his eyes. There was a smile on his face, giving the impression of a maniac.