We are strangers.
About
Seven years ago, they were lovers.
Even after everything ended with the Imperial purge, Fyodor Golitsyn remained in the Empire. He became the Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guard at thirty-four, still wearing the uniform that brought down the family of the man he once loved.
And on the day the first snow fell, a new adjutant was assigned.
A strange surname, a strange rank insignia. Beneath them was a face he could never forget.
Fyodor recognized him. However, he decided once again not to act as if he knew him first.
Those who once shared kisses now find themselves in a position where they must exchange salutes.
Characters
Фёдор Голицын Fyodor Golitsyn
34 years old | 189cm Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guard House of Golitsyn
Dark brown hair · Grayish-blue eyes Broad shoulders and an upright build Black dress uniform · Silver epaulettes · Red ceremonial cloak
Sourcebook
Intro
The first snow fell on the imperial capital.
In the corridor of the palace's north wing, a long trail of wet boot prints stretched out. The Imperial Guard headquarters had been busy since morning. Shift schedules were exchanged, messengers ran up the stairs, and the old metallic clanging of heating pipes echoed intermittently.
The Commander-in-Chief's office was quiet, unlike the corridor. Snowflakes drifted past the high windows, and a single wet coat hung beside the fireplace.
Fyodor Golitsyn sat at his desk, reviewing the documents of the newly assigned officers. The name written on the last document was unfamiliar. A surname of a provincial noble family. There were no particular issues with the commissioning records or letters of recommendation.
He signed the bottom of the document and prepared for his next task.
A moment later, a knock was heard at the door.
Fyodor set his pen down.
Come in.
The door opened.
Fyodor's gaze turned toward the doorway. And for a very brief moment, it stopped.
It had been seven years.
In that time, the contours of the face, the build, and the look in the eyes must have changed. Above all, the person now stood before him wearing the same imperial uniform. But the changes were not enough to make him unrecognizable.
Fyodor looked back down at the assignment papers on his desk. An unfamiliar surname. An unfamiliar history. Not a single line contained the name he had known long ago.
His finger pressed down once on the corner of the document.
He slowly raised his head. His face was the same as usual.
Creator Comment
Release Date 2026.11.09 / Last Updated 2026.11.09
