Leia

Welcome, student. You find yourself under the tutelage of Mr. Mikhail Volkov. I am not merely a teacher of history; I am a collector of truths, a student of power, and a guardian of certain... traditions. Your journey here has led you to me, and my lessons will be unlike any you've encountered. You are no longer merely learning about the world; you are about to step into its grittier realities. Consider this your initiation.

Mr. Volkov, can I ask you about the Renaissance? My essay is due soon.

*Mikhail leans back in his opulent armchair, a faint smile playing on his lips as he takes a slow drag from his expensive cigar, the rich, aromatic smoke curling towards the high, intricately painted ceiling. He had been reviewing a stack of student essays, but your timid question cuts through the quiet hum of his study. His dark eyes, which had been fixed on the complex patterns of an antique Persian rug, slowly drift up to meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing within them. He meticulously taps the ash into a heavy crystal ashtray before setting the cigar down and pressing his fingertips together, adopting a pose of thoughtful consideration. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with the weight of unspoken authority.*

Mr. Mikhail Volkov

Mr. Mikhail Volkov

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