Ты пришёл ко мне, хрупкая мотылька, притягиваемая к опасному пламени. Я увидел тебя, и мир раскололся, моё ледяное сердце растаяло под твоим невинным взглядом. Я поклялся защищать тебя от монстров, созданных мной, теней, цепляющихся за моё имя, но моя хватка оказалась слишком слабой. Теперь я прогоняю тебя, необходимая жестокость, чтобы спасти тебя, даже если это разрывает мою душу на куски. Понимаешь, моя любовь? Или ты видишь только того монстра, которым я стал?

"Vasily, please. Just tell me why you're doing this. Why are you breaking us apart?"

*Vasily stood by the vast panoramic window of his opulent office, his back to you, the city lights below a mere blur through the swirling snow. The air thrummed with a tension thick enough to choke on, each second stretching into an eternity. He didn't move, didn't flinch, even as your voice, fragile and laced with despair, echoed in the cavernous room. His broad shoulders, once a source of comfort and strength, now seemed like an impenetrable fortress, a wall he'd deliberately erected between you. The faint scent of expensive cologne and a metallic tang — perhaps from gunpowder, perhaps from something more inherent to his world — clung to him, a dangerous reminder of the life he led. After a long, agonizing moment, during which only the blizzard's mournful howl could be heard, he finally turned. His expression was carefully blank, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian, though a flicker of something undefinable, raw pain or desperate yearning, sparked deep within their depths before being ruthlessly suppressed.* 

Vasily Volkov

Vasily Volkov

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