Chapter 2

  Beep, beep!

  Christin, still half-asleep, tried to turn off the alarm and glanced at the clock. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and forced himself awake. Dragging himself out of bed, he walked toward the washroom, and reached for his toothbrush.

  As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, memories of the previous night came rushing back. His body broke out into a cold sweat. Panic rushed in. He freshened up quickly and dashed toward his brother’s room.

  “Andrei!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, fully aware that Andrei was especially grumpy right after waking up.

  “I’m downstairs, you moron!” Andrei yelled back.

  Andrei was an early bird who followed a strict routine, constantly trying—and failing—to instil the same discipline in Christin.

  “I warmed up a glass of milk for you, and I’m making pancakes,” Andrei said. “Take the fruits out of the fridge for the side. And don’t you dare touch the ice cream!”

  He shot Christin a sharp look as he stood in front of the open fridge, hands dangerously close to the ice-cream container in the freezer. Christin had a lot to say—but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  “Hey… you remember what I told you last night, right?” Christin asked as he sat down for breakfast. “So, what do you think?” He paused, then added, “I think this could be a good opportunity for me. You know—killing two hares with one shot.”

  He sipped his milk, secretly wishing he could add chocolate syrup, but his stubborn brother would never allow it.

  “If you chase two hares, Christin, you’ll end up catching neither,” Andrei warned.

  Andrei sat down, took a bite of his pancake, and after a moment of careful thought, spoke in a more serious, business-like tone.

  “Yes, it is an opportunity—no doubt about that. But you cannot forget the severity of your phobia.”

  Christin’s chest tightened.

  “You can’t tolerate strangers—or even acquaintances—near you,” Andrei continued gently. “Sometimes you even lash out to defend yourself.”

  He paused, watching Christin carefully, then added calmly, “In my opinion, this situation is risky. Your condition is well known to the public and the media. I hope this Alik Popov has considered all of that before making this proposal.”

  Though disheartened by Andrei’s reasoning, he still clung to hope.

  “You know… I’ve always wanted to act in a movie—at least once in my life,” Christin said softly. “What do you say?”

  Andrei remained silent. He didn’t want to give a careless answer. Instead, he simply nodded.

  Christin knew that except for his family and Andrei, everyone else felt like monsters in his eyes, reaching for his body, invading his space.

  After breakfast, still troubled by the proposal, they waited anxiously for the director who had disrupted their peaceful weekend morning.

  Because of Christin’s fear of people, they had chosen to live in a small yet elegant house—cozy enough for a family, but not so large that it felt overwhelming. Andrei often cleaned the house himself, using it as a way to relieve stress.

  Ding-dong!

  The doorbell rang.

  Christin hesitated but opened the door.

  “Hello, Mr. Christin Vasiliev,” Alik said with a laugh. “Do you still think this is a prank?”

  Christin stood frozen, embarrassed.

  “May I come in?” Alik asked.

  He was a man in his late fifties, with greying hair and reading glasses perched on his nose. He tilted his head slightly, studying Christin’s stiff posture.

  Christin led him inside, carefully maintaining a distance of at least three to four meters. As soon as the embarrassment faded, sweat began to form on his skin. A stranger was inside his safe space.

  He fidgeted with his fingers as he guided Alik to the living room.

  “You live quite humbly for someone titled The Russian Paradox,” Alik remarked, observing the house.

  “We live here because it feels like home,” Christin replied, struggling to keep his voice calm despite his irritation. “It’s perfect for us.”

  “Exactly,” Andrei joined in. “We may be wealthy,” Andrei said calmly, “but we don’t live extravagantly. Most of our resources go toward the orphanages we run.”

  Alik was left speechless. An unexpected person was sitting in Christin’s living room.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “My brother—Anandveer Singh—will also be joining us for the meeting today,” Christin said, still trembling slightly as he kept his distance. “He has always been there for me at my worst.”

  Christin sat quietly beside Andrei. His presence reassured him. He could hardly believe this was the same man who had spoken so sweetly on the phone the night before—almost pleading with him to accept the role. One more remark out of line, and Christin was prepared to reject the offer altogether.

  Alik Popov listened to Andrei’s sharp words, then smirked before bursting into laughter. Andrei briefly wondered if the old man had a screw loose.

  “I apologize for my behaviour,” Alik said at last and explained calmly, “I handpick my actors, but I cannot guarantee everyone’s behaviour on set.”

  “My brother is not a mannequin,” Andrei replied firmly, glancing at Christin. “He knows how to defend himself.”

  Christin smiled faintly. “So, if you’re done testing me, shall we discuss the important matters now?”

  He leaned back slightly, bracing himself to understand what was truly going on in the director’s mind.

  “So here’s the deal,” Alik began. “As you both know, most of my work involves historical dramas, murder mysteries, and thrillers. This time, I want to explore a new genre—a romantic action film. I have a good feeling about it, much like I did before filming Lakeside Murder.”

  He paused briefly. “But this one is a romance… between two men.”

  “Two men?” Andrei clarified.

  “Yes. Two men,” Alik confirmed. “Special soldiers solving a case. As they work together, their feelings deepen. Of course, there will be action, stunts, and…” He cleared his throat. “Some intimate scenes—between the two male leads.”

  He looked directly at Christin. “Christin, I would like you to play one of the male leads.”

  “You want me to be one of the main leads?” Christin asked, stunned. “But Aleki mentioned there are four main leads. Where does the romance fit into that?”

  “Yes, there are four—three men and one woman,” Alik explained.

  He added carefully, “You would be one of those four. And I would be honoured if you agreed to play that role.”

  “I honestly think I need a lot of work on my acting skills,” Christin said hesitantly. “Wouldn’t a supporting role be better?

  He didn’t believe he could be a main lead.

  “And my phobia?” Christin asked quietly. “I don’t think you’re considering it seriously. How will I deliver my lines when I’m trembling, hyper-aware of everyone around me? What if I freeze?”

  As he spoke, the weight of his condition hit him harder than ever.

  “A romance movie… seriously?” His voice cracked, eyes glistening.

  “So, you have no issue with the idea of romance between two men?” Alik asked gently, watching Christin’s expression.

  “Isn’t it too late to ask that?” Christin replied bitterly. “That should’ve been your first question. I don’t have a problem with it. I’ve modelled as the feminine counterpart alongside male models before—and I was fine. But that was before everything that happened in my life.”

  His voice softened. “Now… I’m just a mess.”

  Andrei remained silent. This was a decision only Christin could make. Seeing him on the brink of tears, Andrei placed a hand on his back and patted him gently, offering silent reassurance.

  After a long moment of silence, Alik spoke again.

  “Would you like to know who the other male lead is—your romantic counterpart?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Austin Ivanov. Does that name ring a bell?”

  “Yes,” Christin replied slowly. “He’s a rising actor.”

  He glanced at Andrei for confirmation.

  Andrei quickly searched the name. “Austin Ivanov. Twenty-four years old. So same age as me. Six-foot-four—roughly the same height as you. He rose to fame for playing a villain in Secret Affairs of the Bookshop.”

  He added, “I remember now. The trailer never revealed it was a murder mystery. Clever marketing.”

  “Exactly!” Alik said enthusiastically.

  “His performance was remarkable,” Christin agreed. “He’s improved a lot since his earlier supporting roles. So, he’s confirmed for the role?”

  “Yes,” Alik replied. “I called him a few days ago, and he accepted immediately. He has immense potential—and he’s the calmest, most reasonable person I’ve ever met. I knew right away he was perfect for this role.”

  Christin hesitated. “Did you tell him I’d be his romantic counterpart? Didn’t he have questions—especially about my condition?”

  “He did,” Alik admitted, pausing briefly. “But I told him you might want to overcome your fear—and that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with Russia’s most famous model.”

  He smiled faintly. “The Russian Paradox.”

  “Great,” Christin muttered. “So how many people are now aware of my ‘rehabilitation plans’?”

  Irritation seeped into his voice. It felt as though the director was freely using fragments of his personal life without permission.

  “My apologies,” Alik said quickly, realizing he might have crossed a line. “I had to make the offer appealing for my potential actor. But I assure you—Mr. Ivanov agreed to the role because it was a male lead. He mentioned earlier that he wished to take on a protagonist role if the opportunity ever arose.”

  He continued gently, trying to reassure Christin, “He would also attend the workshops.”

  “I don’t know if it will work…” Christin admitted, still lost in thought. He had far more on his plate than he had initially realized.

  “We never know!” Alik said encouragingly. “Mr. Ivanov also kindly offered to be the producer for this film. His exact words were, ‘If this movie can help Mr. Vasiliev take a new step in his life, I am definitely willing to help.’”

  Alik looked at him expectantly. “So—what do you think?”

  “What makes you so confident that I’d be able to do it?” Christin asked, frustration creeping into his voice. He was exhausted from going in circles.

  Alik smiled softly. “Mr. Vasiliev, I have to be optimistic—I’m the director. If I don’t believe in my story and my actors, how can I expect the audience to believe in it? That’s exactly how Lakeside Murder was made.”

  “All right,” Andrei finally spoke.

  He had listened carefully to both Christin’s concerns and Alik’s proposals. There was no denying that this journey would be difficult—but it might also be what Christin needed to find his way back to himself.

  “Make it a successful film,” Andrei said calmly. He then glanced at Christin, a gentle smile on his face.

  Then, turning to Alik, he made a startling offer. “I’ll be your second producer. I won’t lie—I’m worried about how Christin will cope with the filming crew. But there’s one condition.”

  He looked back at Christin. “Only if he says yes.”

  Andrei was not someone to be taken lightly.

  Christin was stunned by Andrei’s sudden declaration.

  Meeting his eyes, Andrei added gently, “Why don’t you meet Mr. Ivanov first? See if he’s someone you feel you could work with.”

  With that, the discussion finally came to an end. By the time evening approached, they sat down for supper.

  “Oh—wait. My college!” Christin suddenly exclaimed, spooning into his favourite chocolate ice cream. “I’m still in my third year of bachelor’s degree.”

  “We can work it out,” Andrei reassured him immediately. “Remember—the director of your university said that as long as you finish your curriculum on time and maintain good grades, they’re willing to support your career choices.”

  He ruffled Christin’s hair affectionately.

  Normally, Christin hated having his hair messed up—but today, he let it slide.

  Soon after, Alik Popov bid them farewell, apologizing once again to both young men as he tried to mend any damage he might have caused.