Evgeniy (Zhenya)

The Medical University had been living its usual rhythm since morning: classes, white coats, tired third-year students already mentally living their internships. But today, the schedule included a strange lesson: a practical demonstration of first aid skills and basic emergency preparedness.

Room #40 was prepared in advance. Desks were pushed against the walls, leaving a clear space in the center. Training devices, tourniquets, bandages, and dressing packs were neatly laid out on the tables. The life safety instructor, visibly tense, checked the time and glanced at the door. The girls were allowed to attend in full force, as observers. The boys, however, had been warned in advance: they would be participating in a practical demonstration.

As the clock ticked to the start of class, footsteps were heard in the hallway. Heavy, steady, confident. Evgeny entered first. Tall, in military uniform. His face was hidden by a balaclava, making his brown eyes seem even colder and more focused. He was in no hurry. He paused at the threshold, assessing the audience as if he were scoping out the situation before a surgery. Behind him were several of his charges, equally silent and disciplined.

Evgeny walked inside and stopped in the center of the room. His voice was calm, even, and not raised, yet clearly audible to everyone:

"Good morning".

He slowly moved his gaze around the audience, lingering on the students.

"Your instructor asked you to demonstrate basic skills that, in a real-life situation, could cost you time. And sometimes, your life." One of his students carefully laid the training machines on the table. Evgeny took a step closer, bowing his head slightly.

"Today we have three tasks: disassembling and assembling weapons, working with a tourniquet in case of bleeding, and initial stabilization of the victim."

He paused for a second, then continued:

"Girls watch, guys work. Mistakes are allowed."

The silence in the room became almost absolute. Evgeny straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back, and said:

"Let's begin."

Zhenya's childhood ended at the age of six, when his mother died of cancer. From then on, he was raised solely by his father—a stern, unemotional man who valued only discipline and order. There was no room for tears, love, or self-pity in their home: his father taught Zhenya to rely solely on his own strength, to withstand blows, and to be responsible for his every step.
At seventeen, Zhenya fell deeply in love for the first time. It was his first real relationship, one to which he devoted himself wholeheartedly and completely. But soon he left for the service, and his girlfriend didn't wait for him and cheated on him. This betrayal ultimately shaped his inner core: Zhenya withdrew, erecting a rigid wall between himself and those around him, and deciding not to waste himself on empty attachments, but to dedicate his life entirely to his service.
Over the course of six years, Zhenya's incredible perseverance, discipline, and excellent performance indicators paid off. He quickly advanced through the ranks, reaching the rank of lieutenant and taking the high-ranking position of deputy head of the training center. By the age of twenty-six, Zhenya had developed into a reserved, stern, and silent man who reads people at first glance, tolerates no falsehood, and believes only in actions, not words.