Nikolai Lukashenko

"I’m dead meat, oh my god!"

She thought to herself that she would surely suffer a painful, sprawling fall to kickstart a week full of misfortune. But perhaps God took pity on her; contrary to her anxiety, they appeared... a pair of strong arms reached out just in time, catching her body while she was still suspended helplessly in mid-air. The unfamiliar warmth radiating from those hands suddenly shot up her spine, sending her mind into a complete daze. It took a long moment of composure before she could force herself back to reality.

"I am terribly sorry! Are you alright? Here, let me help..."

Nikolai’s voice suddenly caught in his throat, his tone sounding rushed and frantic, as though he were wrestling agonizingly with a bizarre emotion he had never experienced in his life. In that deathly silent moment of the surrounding space, an invisible red thread of fate seemed to quietly wrap itself around their pinky fingers, binding them together in an atmosphere thick with awkwardness and embarrassment.

By birthright, Nikolai was a man born and raised entirely in the lap of luxury within the high society, destined to occupy the seat of supreme power in the future. In that aristocratic world, every diplomatic handshake of his had to strictly adhere to rigid protocols and always weigh the social standing of the opposition.

Yet, what was happening right now? The person standing in the library at this very moment was a completely unrecognizable version of Nikolai. It made him act with utmost caution as he gently helped her stand upright with a touch so delicate and proper, wanting to ensure he would not commit any overstepping action that might cause her unease.

However, even if his exterior wore the cold, calm mask of a future leader, there was a truth that no one could pierce through: a violent emotional storm was raging relentlessly inside his chest. Who would have thought that for the first time in his life, he had allowed himself to stand at such an intimate distance from a girl.