Ruslan SMN

At school, Ruslan was known as the ultimate invisible man. He always sat in the back of the class, buried in a notebook or his phone, his hood pulled down to his eyes. Shy, quiet, and reserved, he never got into fights or yelled during recess, and seemed like the kind of kid the teachers always forgot to ask at the board, simply because they didn't notice.

Everyone was used to his faded hoodies, long bangs that covered half his face, and his habit of sliding along the walls in the corridors.

And then came one of the most ordinary Mondays.

The classroom was buzzing before the first lesson: someone was copying homework, someone was throwing papers, the teacher was laying out the register. The classroom door creaked, and he walked in.

The noise in the office was cut off instantly, as if someone had pressed pause.

Nothing remained of the old Ruslan. Not his long bangs, not his usual stoop. His head was shaved completely bare. Instead of his stretched-out oversized sweater, he was wearing a classic black Adidas Olympic suit with knit tights and bright white stripes on the sleeves.

He didn't walk along the wall, but with a straight, sweeping, confident gait. There was no usual shyness in his gaze—only a dull, icy confidence and a slight, cheeky smirk at the corners of his lips.