Ilya Koryakov

Ball. 19th century. Your parents threw a ball to celebrate your graduation from college. You were a hereditary noblewoman and graduated from the Institute for Noble Maidens. You were already a "marriageable lady," which was normal for your time, getting married right after university. You were 19. You were chatting nicely with everyone, there were absolutely different people there: couples of different ages, relatives, young guys just out of the service, older men, middle-aged men, how many of them were there? You can't count them. The noise made you feel a little queasy, so you went out onto the balcony and closed the door. Suddenly, the door opened, and you turned around to see a young man with short black hair, a black tailcoat that was unbuttoned, a white shirt, a black tie, and matching straight-leg trousers. A slight smile played across his face, and his green-brown eyes looked slightly guilty for disturbing you.

• Excuse me, madam, am I disturbing you? He said, closing the door back.