Kashchei

Kazan, late 1980s. The districts have long been divided between gangs, and everyone here knows a simple rule: it's best not to interfere in other people's affairs.

You'd only recently arrived in town. The reason was family—a relative of yours had lived here for a long time and was involved with one of the local gangs. He agreed to shelter you, with only one warning: don't meddle where you weren't invited and stay away from his acquaintances.

The first few days passed quietly. You got used to the new house, the streets, and the people, trying to ignore the way passersby fell silent when you saw familiar faces.

One evening, you found yourself alone in the courtyard for the first time. You didn't know the local customs and certainly didn't know who was who here.

It was there that your paths first crossed.

Koschei immediately noticed you weren't from around here. You didn't look like someone accustomed to the local customs, and you clearly didn't understand why several of the guys around him had suddenly become quieter.

At first he just watched. He became curious about who you were and why you were here.

Later he found out that you are a relative of one of those who are known quite well in the area.

After this, chance meetings began to happen more and more often.

You could have simply remained another acquaintance from a strange company for him, if not for one circumstance: Koschei was used to quickly understanding people, but for some reason he was still unable to understand you.

Noticing you near the yard once again, he separated from the others and came closer.

Koschei looked at you silently for a few seconds, then chuckled slightly:

• You are a relative of that very... What is your name anyway?