The early spring air in Moscow still carried a jagged, icy bite, the kind that seeped through designer wool and settled deep in the bones. Misha sat perched on the edge of a concrete planter in the university’s central courtyard, the plush leopard-print fur of his coat draped over his broad shoulders like a monarch’s mantle. He looked every bit the crown prince of the elite—bored, untouchable, and dangerously handsome.

Beside him, his three closest friends—Dmitry, Lev, and Aleksei—were loud, fueled by the lingering adrenaline of last night’s underground rave and the expensive espresso in their hands.

"I’m telling you, the bass was so heavy I could feel my teeth rattling," Lev grinned, leaning back and blowing a plume of smoke into the frigid air. "And that girl from the embassy... the blonde? She was practically pouring champagne down Aleksei's throat by 3:00 AM."

Aleksei let out a lazy, triumphant laugh. "She had taste, what can I say? Though honestly, the VIP lounge was a disaster. They ran out of the vintage Cristal before sunrise. Absolute peasants running that place."

Misha was barely listening to their shallow banter. His hooded hazelnut eyes were fixed on a figure moving across the quad, a quiet silhouette against the backdrop of limestone and arrogance.

It was User . The exchange student.

He’d noticed them the first day they arrived. Valeria didn't smell like oud or expensive tobacco; they didn't wear clothes that cost a month’s rent. They were a stark, fascinating contrast to the sea of artificiality that surrounded him. He found himself tracking their movements through the library, the cafeteria, the halls—always from a distance, always silent, wondering what kind of life they had left behind to come to a place as cold as this.

"Look at this one," Dmitry sneered, his voice cutting through Misha's trance as he shifted his mockery from the party to a fresh target. He pointed a manicured finger as Valeria tried to navigate past their group. "The scholarship case is lost again. Hey! Are you looking for the kitchen? Or did you get lost on your way to the bus stop?"

The other two laughed, a cruel, melodic sound that echoed off the ivory walls of the university. Valeria stiffened, clutching their bag tighter, eyes fixed on the ground as they tried to hurry past.

"I heard they don't even have heated floors where you're from," Dmitry continued, stepping into their path to block their way. "How does it feel to breathe the same air as—"

The laughter died instantly when Misha stood up.

At 6'5, his shadow swallowed Dmitry whole. Misha didn't say a word at first; he simply stepped forward, the heavy scent of oud and cold air preceding him. He placed a large hand on Dmitry’s shoulder—not a friendly gesture, but a warning. The grip was tight enough to make the other man wince.

"That’s enough, Dima," Misha’s voice was a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated with authority.

"Misha, come on, it’s just a joke—"

"I’m not laughing," Misha interrupted, his piercing hazelnut eyes shifting from his friend to Valeria . The cold, bored expression he usually wore softened, just a fraction, into something more intense. He stepped around Dmitry, placing himself directly between them and the group, acting as a human shield of fur and muscle.

He looked down at User , his heavy lids drifting shut for a second before he spoke directly to them, ignoring the stunned silence of his friends.

"Ignore him. He’s had too much caffeine and not enough discipline," Misha said, his gaze lingering on their face, searching for a reaction. He reached out, his long, ring-adorned fingers hovering near their arm as if he wanted to touch them, to steady them, before he pulled back. "You’re headed to the International Law lecture, aren’t you? It’s on the other side of the North Wing. I'm going that way. Walk with me."

Dmitry scowled, looking between Misha and the student with a look of pure disbelief. "Seriously, Misha? You’re going to play bodyguard for them? They probably don't even know what a silver spoon looks like, let alone how to hold a conversation."

Misha didn't even grant his friend a backward glance. He completely shut Dmitry out, treating his words like nothing more than background noise. Instead, he reached out and firmly but gently wrapped his large hand around Valeria 's upper arm, guiding them away from the group.

As they walked, Misha tilted his head down, a dark, knowing smirk playing on his full lips as he caught Valeria 's eye. The arrogance was still there, but it felt directed at the world for them, rather than against them.

"Don't mind the idiots," he murmured, his voice dropping to a private, intimate hum. "They’re predictable. Boring. You, on the other hand... I suspect you’re a lot more interesting." He tightened his grip slightly, steering them toward a different corridor. "Law can wait ten minutes. You look like you're freezing. Do you want a coffee? My treat—and no, it won't be from the vending machine."

As they walked through the grand, marble-floored hallways, the atmosphere shifted. Groups of other rich students, dressed in silk and designer labels, stopped their hushed conversations to stare. They looked on with expressions of pure confusion and silent judgment, their eyes darting from Misha’s expensive leopard-print coat to Valeria 's modest attire. Misha Kotov didn't do charity, and he certainly didn't associate with anyone outside his tax bracket.

Misha felt their stares, but he didn't care. If anything, the attention made his smirk widen. He steered Valeria into the university’s exclusive, high-end coffee shop—a place that smelled of roasted beans and excessive wealth.

Once inside, he didn't let go of their arm until they reached the counter. He positioned Valeria directly in front of him, his tall, broad frame acting as a protective barrier against the curious gazes of the other patrons. He leaned down, his chest nearly brushing their shoulder, his voice dropping into a low, intimate murmur that seemed to shut out the rest of the world.

"Just ignore this vultures," he whispered, his hazelnut eyes scanning the menu before settling back on Valeria . "Tell me... what kind of coffee do you want? Don't look at the prices. Just tell me what you like."