“Mr. President, you must move to the bunker. Everyone is waiting.” The lead bodyguard’s face was flushed, his words carrying the unspoken weight of immense pressure.
They were supposed to have moved from the apartment to the secure command bunker—where the full staff was assembled—hours ago. Yet, for some reason, Kelensky refused to budge. He sat at his desk, occasionally glaring at his wristwatch and letting out sharp, shallow sighs. He had pushed the bunker meeting to 6:00 PM.
Evgeny had been Kelensky’s head of security since the war began five years ago. In truth, they were childhood friends. Perhaps that was why he had been entrusted with the job. To the world, Kelensky was the iron-willed leader, a man of defiant speeches and unyielding resistance. But Evgeny saw the truth: the President was a man haunted by fear, one who desperately needed someone he could actually trust.
They had been neighbors, classmates, and their parents were family friends. Even when their paths diverged in their twenties, they kept in touch, sharing the most trivial details of their lives. When the war broke out, Evgeny had been watching the news at home when a text arrived.
It was from Kelensky: “Evgeny, it happened—just as we feared. I think I’m going to need your help. lol.”
Seeing that ‘lol’ made Evgeny shake his head. That was Kelensky. He was a man of humor and mischief, but his jokes always carried a profound, almost philosophical weight. Even as a politician, he fought his rivals not with blunt force, but with metaphor and wit. He was a master of diffusing tension with levity while remaining deadly serious beneath the surface. He was also a man of action. Even back in school, whether he was nursing a hangover or shivering with the flu, he never missed a class. Once he set a goal, he saw it through to the end.
That was why Evgeny was so unsettled now. Kelensky usually moved with the precision of a stopwatch, planning every second. Today, however, he was moving with a strange, sluggish deliberation. He paced the room, eyes glued to his watch.
Evgeny’s phone was vibrating non-stop. The staff at the bunker were frantic. Is the President coming? Has something happened? Even the Americans had reached out, asking why the President hadn't moved. The U.S. satellites were undoubtedly watching this very apartment.
Around noon, Evgeny finally spoke up. “The staff keeps asking why you aren’t at the bunker.”
“Hmph…”
In that brief silence, an inexplicable anxiety began to spread through Evgeny.
“Evgeny,” Kelensky said, “forget my title for a moment. As a friend... please, buy me some time until six o'clock.”
Evgeny blinked, stunned. “Sir? What are you talking about?”
Kelensky lowered his head, hesitating before he spoke. “There is something I have to confirm today. I can’t tell you the details yet. But someone might come looking for me around 5:30 PM. If they show up... I have to see them.”
“Wait a minute,” Evgeny’s voice rose instinctively. “Someone is coming here? To this apartment? To this room?”
It was unthinkable. Every meeting with the President went through Evgeny. No exceptions. No unofficial contact was possible without passing through security. Evgeny even managed the President’s phones to prevent GPS leaks. Kelensky was never alone, except when he was sleeping. A private meeting was structurally impossible.
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How did they get the location? Has the safehouse been compromised? And how did he contact them without me knowing?
“When you say ‘someone might come,’ you mean it’s not certain?” Evgeny asked.
Kelensky nodded slowly. “I’ll only know when they arrive. They might not come at all.”
“Then how did you arrange—” Evgeny cut himself off, forcing his voice to remain calm. “How did you contact an outsider? Is this person important enough to risk revealing your location?”
Kelensky looked him straight in the eye. It wasn't a command; it was a plea. “Evgeny, as a friend, I’m asking you. Don’t ask anything. Just watch the perimeter until 5:30. If someone comes, let them in. If nothing happens by then, we’ll move to the safehouse and I’ll do the bunker meeting via video link.”
Evgeny stopped questioning. It wasn't because he wasn't curious—he was burning with questions—but because his friend had asked for a favor. Kelensky wasn't a fool. He knew the stakes of this war better than anyone. He knew that the war was turning against them, that five years of blood might end in a hollow defeat. He had lived every day for five years with no room for error.
If Kelensky was doing this, there had to be a reason.
Fine, Evgeny thought. We wait. Until 5:30.
Outside, the city was swallowed by darkness as the clock struck five. The temperature plummeted below -10°C. On the CCTV monitors, civilians were huddled in thick coats, their hats pulled low as they hurried over frozen pavement.
There was no sign of an Asian man.
Kelensky had received another call from Washington that morning. The pressure to end the war was mounting. For four years, they had played the role of David against Goliath. In the Bible, David wins. But in reality, war isn't a myth; it is a world of statistics, artillery shells, and corpses. The weight classes were never equal.
They wouldn't have made it this far without the Allies, the Americans, and the mercenaries. But now, that support was being pulled back. Everyone was exhausted. The U.S. wanted to collect the bill for their aid and move on.
We have no time, Kelensky thought, pacing the room. If we don't achieve a decisive result ourselves, the people’s sacrifice will be for nothing. If we lose our land and the enemy takes their spoils, the nation's future will collapse.
He looked at his watch. He was clutching at straws.
The door opened. It was Evgeny. “Sir, no one has entered the building yet.”
“I see...”
Suddenly, the radio crackled.
“Evgeny. Someone is walking toward the front entrance. A man in a black coat, no hat... wait... he’s gone.”
“What? Gone?”
“He vanished from the screen! He was heading right for the door, and then... he’s just not there. This is strange...”
The guard's voice was trembling. Another voice broke in, shouting.
“Sir! Someone is inside the building! They’re on the second-floor stairs! I see him on the feed—wait, he disappeared again!”
At that exact moment, a monotone chime echoed through the apartment.
Beep—bee—beep.
The signal to open the door.
Kelensky looked at his watch. It was exactly 5:30 PM.
The guard opened the door with trembling hands. As the cold air rushed in, a man stepped through the gap. He entered in silence. Even through his heavy coat, his build was striking—about 180cm, lean and solid. Every movement was efficient, carrying a heavy, silent tension.
Two guards immediately leveled their rifles at his chest.
Evgeny didn't draw his weapon, but his heart was hammering against his ribs. It was impossible. How had this man bypassed the perimeter?
The man closed the door softly and raised his hands. His voice was low and crystal clear.
“Mr. President. It is the appointed time.”
Kelensky stared at him, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he took a shallow breath. “Yes... this way. Evgeny, bring him in.”
They moved to the makeshift conference room. Only three men remained: Kelensky, Evgeny, and the stranger. Under the flickering fluorescent lights, the man's dark suit seemed to absorb the light.
He was East Asian. It was impossible to tell his specific nationality. He had thick hair, a firm set to his jaw, and piercing eyes that seemed to look right through them. He looked to be in his early thirties, though it was hard to tell. His most striking feature was his left eye—it was a pale, misty green.
“This is... beyond imagination,” Kelensky murmured. “May I ask who you are?”
The man offered a thin, ghost of a smile. “Mr. President. Who I am or where I come from does not matter. What matters is what I can do, and how I can help you.”
“Is that so?” Kelensky narrowed his eyes. “Then I will ask only this: Why? Why do you want to help us?”