Winter in Tomsk, Russia, three in the morning.

The sound came from next door again.

Thud—.

The sound of something colliding, followed by ragged, broken breathing, leaked through the wall. It was a daily occurrence that had been repeating for weeks.

You finally couldn't take it anymore, got out of bed, and knocked on the neighbor's door.

Knock, knock.

A moment later, the door opened, and a man wearing a black military balaclava appeared.