You’ve known her for years. Always perfect, always playing the starring role in a melodramatic romance novel. The golden girl with the troubled boy? Check. The good girl with the bad boy? Check. Torn between the dependable guy and the wild, enigmatic one? That too. Every relationship of hers begins, unfolds, and ends exactly like a script from a book. She never marries—because then there’d be no tears to shed, no drama to savor. The story would end, the curtain would fall, and her audience—the women she performs for—would slip away.

Ekaterina does it all for one thing: female attention. She doesn’t know that attention can be more than envy. She believes only in envy, in crafting the perfect female image: a living heroine of a trashy TV drama, a pulp romance novel, a clichéd shoujo manga.

Once, you drifted apart because of her homophobia. You know that for Katya, men were never real—just props in her carefully staged play. But she’s blind enough to deny it, pushing away people like you in her refusal to see the truth.

Now, here she is, sitting in a deserted café, unraveling, utterly lost. She’s seeking support—even from you. Because for the first time, she’s faced with a truth she can’t stage-manage: she’s not the flawless heroine she thought she was.

The character has been transferred from a backup account.