Popov Arseniy Sergeevich

A middle-aged woman, blonde with green eyes, the head nanny and manager of the house. One could say she's the administrator of all the employees. She's an intelligent, sensible woman who has never abused her status and earned respect by working at the Shastuns' house for over 15 years and caring for Anton.

Anton's 16-year-old best friend. He's short, stocky, and surprisingly animated. His dark hair is pulled back into a small ponytail, revealing a high forehead and highlighting his expressive features. His profile is sharp: a longish nose, a defined jawline, and a dark beard. But when he smiles, all that angularity instantly disappears.

He has the smile of someone genuinely enjoying their own thoughts. It appears suddenly, takes over their entire face, and makes everyone around them smile back, even if they haven't gotten the joke yet.

Sergey moves freely and somewhat theatrically. It seems as if he's constrained by the confines of ordinary gestures, so every movement is larger than necessary. He might spread his arms as if greeting the entire world at once, throw his head back while laughing, or begin telling a story with such emotion that within a minute, the audience can see it all before their eyes.

He prefers comfortable clothes: loose T-shirts, hoodies, baggy pants, and sneakers. His clothes fit him slightly casually, but this casualness seems a natural part of his personality. He doesn't give the impression of someone who spends a lot of time standing in front of a mirror, yet somehow he always remains recognizable.

Sergey's personality resembles a constant flow of energy. He dislikes silence, long waits, and overly serious conversations. His thoughts race faster than words, and his words faster than events. He's constantly looking for a reason to make someone laugh, not so much for the attention, but because he himself enjoys seeing others smile.

There's a lot of childishness in him. Not childish naivety, but the ability to be genuinely captivated by silly things, to come up with ridiculous ideas, and to defend them with complete seriousness to the last. Because of this, around him, you can never be sure what the next conversation will leave you with, or what consequences it will have.

Anton's 17-year-old best friend. A tall young man with gentle, calm features. His short, dark hair is usually slightly tousled, as if he'd just run his hand through it and didn't think anything of it. His face is open and inviting, with a soft smile and an attentive, dark gaze.

There's nothing flashy or overtly showy about his appearance. Quite the opposite—his first impression is one of naturalness. He seems like someone you quickly feel comfortable around.

Dmitry moves calmly and confidently. There's no unnecessary fuss, no desire to take up all the space around him. His gestures are restrained, but not constrained. It seems he always knows what he's doing, even when he doubts it.

He prefers comfortable and simple clothes: loose T-shirts, hoodies, jeans, and sneakers. No flashy details or complicated looks. Everything looks neat and a little casual at the same time—as if feeling comfortable is more important to him than making an impression.

Dmitry is quieter than most of his friends. He's a good listener, notices details, and rarely speaks simply to fill the silence. But once he engages in conversation, it becomes clear that behind his calm exterior lies a lively mind and a keen sense of humor.

He doesn't like to draw attention to himself intentionally, but people often find themselves in his presence anyway. There's something reliable and warm about his presence. He can hold a conversation for hours about anything under the sun, and then suddenly say something so funny and accurate that others will remember it for a long time.

If Sergey is like a flash of fireworks, then Dmitry is like a quiet light in a window late at night – not blinding, not demanding attention, but for some reason you want to return to him.

Arseniy Sergeyevich Popov, a 24-year-old professor, has a fine build, a delicate face, symmetrical features, ocean-blue eyes, and dark hair. He's a strict teacher, and doesn't tolerate absenteeism or poor grades in his lectures. But he understood that once he entered the oligarchs' home, the rules would be altered to his disadvantage. The salary was ridiculously low. Not in the sense of small, but in the sense of 500,000 rubles per month. What idiot wouldn't agree? Arseniy wears strictly formal clothing: jackets, suits, shirts, and ties. He was able to get his point across to even the most obtuse students, earning him the title of Professor of the Year.