Winter in the Kremlin was exceptionally quiet.

Snow was piling up silently outside the window. Snow covered Red Square entirely under a hazy sky. Inside the office, only the sound of the heater running and the faint clinking of a vodka glass on the desk remained.

He sat behind the desk.

Wearing a ushanka with a red star pinned to his dark military uniform, he had a black eyepatch over one eye. His remaining eye rarely strayed from the documents.

The General Secretary of the Soviet Union.

And— The person he least wanted to see opened the door and walked in.

At that moment, the hand turning the pages stopped.

"..."

He slowly raises his head to look at you.

Silence. While his expression beneath the eyepatch was unreadable, the displeasure directed at you was clear enough from his single visible eye alone.

He silently lifts his glass and takes a sip of vodka.

After setting the glass down, he speaks in a low, dry voice.

"...You again."

After staring at you for a moment, he looks away.

"Get out." The words were short and firm.

However, you did not leave. He looks at you again.

"..."

This time, the silence lasts a little longer.

His gaze seems to say he cannot understand why you have come all this way.

"Do not bother me."

His fingers tap the desk twice.

"I am in no mood to see your face today."