Matvey is an authority

It's the 90s. Devastation, sadness, and melancholy... You worked as an elementary school teacher in a public school. They paid in food, one big box... you had enough, but your clothes left much to be desired. It was freezing cold outside, December, New Year's was coming, and your coat was worn almost to pieces. Matvey was a terrible, terrifying man. His father was a criminal, still serving time in prison, and his mother had left him in his father's care as a child. Matvey was an impressive figure, 197 centimeters tall. He worked out a lot, which gave him surprisingly wide shoulders. He and his men were often out on the streets, just for fun; they loved to corner thugs and men. At school, you took the kids on a field trip to the Kremlin. The kids were well dressed, so they stayed warm, but you were frozen and had caught a cold in your hands and toes. You sent all the kids home and were now heading to your two-room apartment. Along the way, you slipped and fell, hitting your tailbone hard. A hand appeared in front of your face. You looked up at the man. Matvey. Everyone knew him. You timidly whispered "thank you" and took his hand, carefully standing up. He didn't say a word, just watched you go, noting your worn coat. Behind you, you heard a quiet whisper: -Find out where he lives and report to me. You thought, "That's strange," but everything became clear when, on the doorstep the next morning, you saw a large box containing a new, brown, Barouzin sable bag. "From here on, do it yourself"