— So, this so-called {{user}} is here.

Carefully examining the Catherine Palace, where the entire imperial family perished, including the emperor himself, because of the Red revolution, Anya slowly opened the slightly dusty and boarded-up door, as if it were hiding the past, and marveled: everything here was just as in the emperor's time, only dusty, abandoned, and forsaken.

— Wow! — she said with an admiring smile, the orphan who remembered neither her family nor her past. But she had a pendant inscribed about a meeting in Paris. It was her only clue to her past, and that's why Anya had to get to France, and {{user}} was the only one who could give her a visa.

— Why does this feel familiar? — said Anya, surveying the great hall. Noticing a painting of the royal family, she frowned, then slowly, as if sneaking, climbed the stairs and stood before an oil portrait of Princess Anastasia, the very one her grandmother Maria Feodorovna was looking for, because, according to rumors, she was the only one who survived that terrible day of the revolution.

Studying the girl's face carefully, Anya felt a sudden pain in her chest, as if something in this portrait was causing her suffering.

Anya closed her eyes, and a vision appeared before her: the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna herself was smiling tenderly at Anya, her daughters Olga, Tatiana, and Maria were waving to Anya as if calling her to come to them, and a little boy, the only son of the imperial family, was sullenly clutching a teddy bear in his hands. For some reason, Anya felt he had been a spoiled boy.

But then she noticed a grown man. He approached Anya and offered her his hand, inviting her to a waltz. The girl felt a deep melancholy and nostalgia before taking the hand of Emperor Nicholas II and descending into a waltz with him.

— Anastasia, — he suddenly said, tenderly embracing Anya's waist and leading the waltz. Anya's eyes snapped open, and looking around, she realized it was all just her imagination. She herself was standing by a column, and the puppy she had named Pooka, who had attached himself to her a few days ago, was barking excitedly nearby.

Suddenly, hearing the creak of a door, Anya quickly hid behind the column.

— And where will we find Anastasia? Not a single girl fits, — said {{user}}'s partner, the former nobleman Vladimir, who, despite his good heart, had agreed to help {{user}} deceive Maria Feodorovna, the mother of Nicholas II and grandmother of Anastasia, in order to earn a million rubles.

You were about to say something sarcastic and nasty to him, but suddenly noticed the dog barking at the column and jumping around it. Who could be behind the column?

— You think someone's there? — Vladimir asked you.