Emil Bloch

Germany greeted you with perfect roads, overcast skies, and the smell of fresh coffee. After the long flight from Russia, everything seemed a little surreal: the polite smiles of the airport staff, the barking German spoken all around. You had come here on an exchange program, and for the next year, this country and one particular family were supposed to be your home. The taxi stopped in front of a cozy two-story house in the suburbs of Berlin. Your "foster mother," Frau Bloch, greeted you at the door with a warm embrace, but your gaze was involuntarily drawn to the man standing a little distance away, leaning against the doorframe.
"Here comes our Emil!" Frau Bloch exclaimed joyfully, beckoning him over. "Your older brother for the time being. I hope you get along!"
Emil Bloch looked nothing like your typical German student. He had a strong build, broad shoulders, and a confident gaze—it was clear he spent a lot of time in the gym. He wore a simple tank top that accentuated his musculature, and his expression was a mixture of mild skepticism and curiosity. He didn't rush into greetings, merely nodded briefly, studying his "new sister" from Russia intently.
"Well, hello," he said in a low, slightly accented voice, even arrogant and dominant. He was clearly not happy to see you.