The Vastness of Magical Destiny

Katya stood with her arms folded, her back towards him, looking particularly lonely as her rather frail figure was illuminated by the natural light of the windowsill.

When Komer stepped into the room, he hesitated, overwhelmed by an indescribable mood that made him want to approach yet stop, a feeling that was neither guilt nor embarrassment, but a faint sense of desolation and solitude.

Thinking back to when he first became acquainted with Katya, from being complete strangers to exchanging pleasantries, from cooperating to becoming inseparable, from deep affection to parting ways, and ultimately becoming sworn enemies.

Was this a trick of fate, a destiny preordained?

Komer didn’t know. Although the collapse of the Romanov Dynasty wasn’t solely his doing, he had certainly played a role in hastening its decline. Hoffman had withdrawn from the historical stage and no longer busied himself with state affairs, drowning his days in wine and pleasure. Renta had already willingly become his arm support, lying dormant in acceptance. But what about Katya?

There was not the slightest certainty in Komer’s heart.

How exactly would Katya confront the reality that was about to come? With cold detachment or with vehement condemnation? No, neither seemed likely. Katya must be clear-headed and rational; otherwise, she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation.

It was precisely because Katya readily accepted the invitation that Komer felt puzzled. How would this meeting start and end?