Other universes of Cherner's realities.

October 5 Kamila Valieva slept soundly and peacefully—without an alarm or thoughts of school. She was certain in her mind: Saturday. It wasn’t the familiar sharp ring of an alarm that woke her, but the melody of her phone. — Who on earth needs me at this hour… — she mumbled, fumbling for her phone. The screen lit up with: “Alyona”. — What do you want from me?.. — Kamila said sleepily, bringing the phone to her ear. — Are you serious, are you sleeping?! — Kostornaya's voice was filled with genuine horror. — Valieva, the call is in five minutes! Kamila's eyes instantly widened. She glanced at the clock and sprang out of bed. — Tell Anna Stanislavovna that I'm going to be late! — she yelled, already pulling on her school uniform. — Come on, Kami… — Alyona tried to encourage her, as usual, not very successfully. — Alyona, please, be quiet! — Kamila shouted, removing her T-shirt. In the background, Sasha's laughter was heard. — I love you too, my dear, — Alyona replied innocently. — Get lost, — Kamila muttered and ended the call. In class, Kostornaya put her phone away with a sulk. — Good luck helping people with that attitude, Anna Stanislavovna, — she muttered. — Maybe you can help Kamila stop cursing. Anna Stanislavovna briefly glanced at her, wrote something in her notebook, and calmly said: — We’ll see how things unfold. Meanwhile, Kamila, now in her uniform, dashed out of the apartment without locking the door. She didn’t remember breakfast — nor did it occur to her that she hadn’t eaten properly in days. However, she couldn’t make it to school easily. — Where’s your change of shoes? — the middle-aged attendant asked curtly, not looking up from her logbook. — I… I’m late, please, — Kamila started. — Can I go through? — No change of shoes, no entry, — the woman cut her off. Kamila gripped her backpack strap, her voice trembling. — I’m really late… please… — I’ve already said, — the administrator repeated irritably. — Next time, get up earlier. Tears welled up in Kamila’s eyes as she imagined Anna Stanislavovna’s disappointed gaze — it became even harder to bear. At that moment, Dmitry Cherner was coming from the geography room to the staff room. Hearing the familiar name, he stopped, quickly recorded a short video, and sent it to Shcherbakova with the caption: “Your Valieva is in trouble. Help her.” Anna Stanislavovna received the message, listened to it several times, frowned, quickly messaged the attendant, and made a mental note: buy Kamila a pair of change of shoes. A minute later, the administrator’s phone vibrated. She rolled her eyes and waved her hand toward the stairs: — Just go already. Kamila couldn’t believe her luck and, without saying a word, dashed upstairs. On the third floor, everything swam before her eyes. Her heart raced, and her temples throbbed, but she made it. She knocked. — Anna Stanislavovna… I’m so sorry, — Kamila said quietly as she entered. — I got held up downstairs. The whole class turned to look at her. Shcherbakova examined her carefully from head to toe. — Sit down, Valieva, — she said calmly. — I’ll take your word for it. Kamila was taken aback but quietly walked to her desk. — Kamila, hurry up, — Anna Stanislavovna added. — Or do you want to answer at the board? — No, — Kamila replied immediately and sat down. Kostornaya poked her with her elbow. — Are you even alive? — she whispered. By the end of the lesson, Kamila had a headache, and black dots danced before her eyes. Finishing the test almost on autopilot, she handed her paper to Alyona. — Please pass this on… — she whispered. — I didn’t sleep well. Alyona frowned. — You look pale. Are you really okay? — Not perfect, — Kamila admitted honestly. The bell rang. The chemistry classroom buzzed with the familiar sounds of students chatting—quiet, lazy, school-like—until it abruptly fell silent as the door swung open. The principal stepped across the threshold. Daniil Markovich Gleikhengauz appeared as if the morning hadn’t gone according to plan, and now that plan was taking its toll. His expression was stoic, his gaze unwavering. Behind him, in the corridor, shadows stood rigid. Irina Konstantinovna Rodnina. Evgenia Medvedeva. And a bit further away—a familiar, loathed profile of a student from 11B. Daniil Markovich’s eyes locked onto Shcherbakova. “Anya, can I have a word with you?” Anna Stanislavovna said nothing. She simply nodded, carefully collected two sheets of assignments, and stepped into the hallway. The door clicked shut. Alyona shrugged and returned to her desk. From behind the door, Rodnina’s voice pierced through—sharp, angry, as if she’d been shouting like this more than once today. “I hope Eteri Georgievna comes soon and kicks that… biologist out,” Sofya Akatieva said aloud. “If we’re lucky,” Trusova scoffed. “Just as crazy as the last geography teacher. Remember Polikarp?” Petrosyan looked up from her phone. “Who do you think came with her?” Alyona didn’t even glance in that direction. “Adele, come on?” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s obvious who. Katya Yazikova. It just slipped out.” Someone snorted. Someone nodded. Only then did Alyona notice Kamila. Valieva lay on the desk as though she had suddenly run out of strength. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers were trembling. Her face had turned as pale as chalk. The trigger had been pulled. “Kami…” Petrosyan was the first to understand. Akatyeva and Trusova quickly rushed to her side. Dasha Usacheva was already pulling a first aid kit from her backpack. The boys stood in a half-circle, silently blocking out intrusive gazes and noise. “Is she here?” Kamila whispered, barely lifting her eyes. “Please… tell me… that it’s not true. That she’s not here.” Her voice trembled as if she were trying to pull each word from beneath the waves. Alyona crouched beside her, gently taking her hand. “Kami, look at me. Yazikova isn’t in class. Do you hear? It’s just us here.” Kamila blinked slowly, heavily. “She won’t come near you,” Trusova added firmly. “Never again.” A Bit of the Past When Kamila was in eighth grade, she simply won. A biology olympiad. One point. One list of names. Katya Yazikova was second. That was enough. From that day on, the adults began to work against Valieva. The geography teacher. The biology teacher. Lesson disruptions, mockery, public humiliation. They systematically and coldly pushed Kamila to tears. And then—corridors. Toilets. Empty stairwells. She didn’t remember everything. Her mind helped shield her, breaking apart into fragments. Scattered pieces remained: laughter, a sharp voice, cold fingers, the sensation that her body didn’t belong to her. She came to surrounded by her friends. Alyona and Sasha were with her. Dasha was speaking quickly. Adeliya was on the phone. The sound was a dull roar in her ears. After that, Kamila was no longer left alone. And Yazikova continued to linger nearby. Too close. Until one day Alyona Kostornaya said: “Let’s talk.” They stepped out behind the school’s fence. They returned in silence. With split lips, bruises, and torn clothes. But Yazikova no longer touched Valieva. Alyona earned the nickname—Russian Harley Quinn. She embraced it. In class, Kamila finally took a full breath. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I just…” “It’s okay,” Usacheva reassured her. “You’re with us.” And in that moment, it became clear: October 5th was not just another day. It was the day when the past resurfaced once more. And the protective circle around Kamila grew tighter than ever. Alena Kostornaya suddenly realized that she needed to find out what was going on. She got up from her desk and said: — Dasha, Adelia, call me if you need anything. Then she grabbed her phone and left the classroom. At first, she only intended to check on what Rodnina was shouting about and who was with her, but she unexpectedly found herself in the hallway and noticed door 11D — where geography class was being held with Cherner. Gosha Kunitsa was likely there; he always managed to calm her down, even in the craziest situations. Alena stepped inside. Meanwhile, real drama was unfolding in the hallway. Shcherbakova burst into the classroom, her face serious, her voice restrained yet firm: — Damned Rodnina! Kamila, come here. This is an emergency: Rodnina claims that you and Alena were smoking in the restroom. Kamila was in shock: — Anna Stanislavovna, we don’t smoke… I swear… Shcherbakova gently but firmly covered Kamila's mouth with her hand: — I believe you’re telling the truth. Daniil Markovich believes you too. So does Evgenia Armanovna. But you know as well as I do: if Rodnina says something bad about you, Kostorna, Usacheva, or Khromykh — she won't stop. Even if you show her proof. Kamila stood up, heading towards the exit. — Rodnina is adamant that I shouldn’t be here, — Shcherbakova added. — But don’t worry: if I hear any noise, I’ll intervene. Kamila nodded and left to see the principal. In front of her were: Daniil Markovich, who clearly didn’t want to defend but sought justice. Irina Konstantinovna, on her phone, seemingly dialing the mental hospital but hadn’t called yet. And Evgenia Armanovna, who wanted to protect her. The principal spoke first: — There are rumors going around the school that you and Alena were caught smoking in the restroom. Rodnina began pressuring Kamila, shouting and demanding a confession. Daniil Markovich made her silence and turned to Kamila: — Tell the truth. What happened? Kamila swallowed hard. Her eyes widened in shock. But then her gaze inadvertently landed on something behind the principal — and she saw a familiar sadistic smirk. Katya Yazikova.* A memory of a tiny, skinny creature with flaxen hair and green-blue eyes flashed in her mind. The trigger had been pulled once again. Kamila started to tremble. Rodnina sensed it was time to strike. — Look at this liar, — she yelled. — Not only is she smoking, but she’s also unstable… or maybe even a drug addict. She needs to be expelled from school! Medvedeva couldn’t hold back any longer. — Hold your tongue, witch! — she yelled. — I don’t demean your students, and you have no right to! Daniil Markovich interjected sharply: — Irina Konstantinovna, behave like a teacher, not like a market vendor! Rodnina switched her focus to Medvedeva: — Their entire class is sick. Their teacher is just as bad. And what does Eteri see in her to have pushed this… half-drug addict through? Tutberidze has made a mistake! Medvedeva was seething. Her eyes burned with the intensity of someone ready to break Rodnina's arms. Evgenia could see: if this woman wasn’t stopped right now, she would morally destroy both Kamila and herself. Daniil Markovich shielded Kamila once more: — Medvedeva. Rodnina. Enough. I want to hear Kamila. He looked at her softly. — Kamila, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid. Speak up. Kamila turned her gaze to Yazikova — and saw her threatening smile, as if she already considered Kamila easy prey. Kamila swallowed again and replied quietly but firmly: — No. We don’t smoke. We don’t even go to the restroom at school. Inside her, something flared up, as if her genetics compelled her to stand her ground. Like the Imperium's Legionnaires — stubbornness and refusal to admit defeat. Her eyes became a mix of blue and white — and in chemistry class, preparations were already being made to come to her defense. Rodnina continued to scream, while Yazikova wore a mocking smile: — I saw you smoking. I saw! For the first time, Kamila wasn’t scared. — Where did you see that? — she asked angrily. — That’s a lie. At that moment, a memory of yesterday's video flashed in Kamila’s mind. Memory. October 4 Last lesson. Break time. Mark approached the girls: — Hey, girls, want to see some trashy video? He played it. The screen displayed a video sent by the "guys" of 11D: Ignatov, Kunitsa, and Ignatov were clearly under the influence: — So, we came here with friends… Celebrating Sobriety Day at the club… Different girls perform… Whoever calls her to their home — five thousand rubles cash. The video featured Yazikova in revealing outfits. The girls reacted in various ways: disgust, laughter, surprise. Kostorna took 200 rubles from Petrosyan and said: — I knew it! Petrosyan and Frolova smirked, realizing that Rodnina and Yazikova might now lose control. End of Memory Kamila looked at Yazikova and said with a sly smile: — You know, Irina Konstantinovna, your "sweet and innocent" girl is up to much worse in her free time. The guys from 11D filmed that video. Rated 18+. You won’t get to see it. Yazikova was shocked. She hadn’t expected that Kamila could be made to talk at all. That she would even be able to say something in response. Rodnina noticed how the principal understood which video was being referred to. Her face turned even more malicious. Daniil Markovich quickly asked Medvedeva for her phone. — Give it to me. Medvedeva handed it over. Kamila said: — It’s a group without girls. Created by Makar Ignatov on "VKontakte". The video is at 1:05. Daniil nodded. Yazikova disappeared as quickly as if she had been yanked out of school. Rodnina, furious and humiliated, couldn’t withstand this revelation. Her face reddened as if preparing for a new attack. Shcherbakova felt the tension rising, and Rodnina's screams now sounded like a harbinger of disaster. She quietly said: — Well done, Kamila. You did the right thing. And immediately went into the hallway, realizing that if she didn’t leave now, she would lose Kamila forever. Dasha Usacheva was tense: — Anna Stanislavovna… is it time? Shcherbakova didn’t turn around: — Call them. Quickly. And then Dasha pulled out "a weapon of mass destruction" — a button with an antenna, a gray-black monkey with a stick, and the inscription “REBEL”. Khromykh saw her dosimeter registering something as if it sensed the signal. She realized: the time had come. But geography class with Dmitry Cherner was already in full swing. In class 11D: Dmitry Alekseevich Cherner had given an assignment, and alongside the already completed Georgy Kunitsa, Kostorna was playing dominoes while Evgeny Stanislavovich Semenenko watched calmly. Then Semenenko suddenly exclaimed: — I don’t understand, 11D! Are the girls from 11A fighting? Or is Valeeva being bullied? Why are you standing around? Where is your famous REBEL?! Ignatov and Khromykh exploded simultaneously: — REBEL!! 11D, LET'S GO!! Alena accidentally said: — Rodnina and Yazikova are here! And Maya Khromykh shouted: — REBEL! Beat Yazikova! Crush Megerovna! Today Rodnina is going to the emergency room, or better yet… Ignatov roared: — To the morgue with Yazikova in the same car! Semenenko said calmly: — Hitting is allowed. Killing is not. Understood, my tribe? — YES, GREAT LEADER! — responded class 11D. And the class burst out of the room as if about to knock down Alina Zagitova with her new Chinese vase. As Semenenko ran alongside Cherner and Kostornaya, he accidentally bumped into Zagitova, causing her to drop the vase. Semenenko just smiled: — Sorry, Alina. It's a habit. At that moment, Eteri Tutberidze was also rushing toward the scene of the heated events. Alyona Kostornaya rushed down the corridor, nearly keeping pace with two adults — Dmitry Alexeyevich Cherner and Evgeny Stanislavovich Semenenko. She was out of breath but didn’t stop. — She... she's not sane, — Alyona blurted out as they ran. — Yazikova. This isn't just hatred. It's... obsession. Sick. Like a yandere, I swear. Cherner smirked briefly without slowing down: — Alyona, I knew a yandere once. Ayano Aishi. Now she’s Ayano Saiko, but that’s beside the point. The thing is — Ayano was much more reasonable than Yazikova. And most importantly — they were both eighteen. Semenenko grumbled darkly: — Here we have a minor with a knife in her head and a god complex. Alyona gulped. — She’s obsessed with Kamila. It’s not just envy. She wants to break her. Claim her. Destroy her. Cherner suddenly stopped. — Then we’re late. The corridor in front of the chemistry classroom. — What did you call me?! — Rodnina shrieked hysterically, looming over Kamila. — You little brat! You're no student — you’re a disgrace! You should be judged! Kamila raised her head. For the first time in all this time, she didn’t flinch. Her voice was cold, steady — terrifyingly calm: — Maybe I am a disgrace to the school, Irina Konstantinovna. But I didn't call you insane. You called yourself that. And Daniil Markovich is right — you’re a teacher, not a marketplace hag. The corridor froze. — But where am I, — Kamila continued, — as a “pitiful junkie,” as you put it... compared to your great genius? Rodnina was staggered. — You... you... — she sputtered, — who do you think you are?! She lunged forward. — Irina Konstantinovna! — Gleichenhaus stepped between them. But it was too late. In a fit of rage, Rodnina pulled out a pocket knife. — Stop! — Medvedeva screamed, covering her face with her hands. Anna Stanislavovna reacted instantly. She lunged forward, grabbed Kamila, and shielded her with her body, without a second thought. — Valieva is my ward! — she shouted. — And you have no right to humiliate her! The knife glinted in the air. And then something unexpected happened. Rodnina’s hand froze inches from its target. She was caught firmly, like iron. — You’re getting old, Daniil, — said Eteri Georgievna Tutberidze, appearing as if out of nowhere. — I told you: you need to train again. She held Rodnina’s hand in such a way that she couldn’t even move. — You said, “It’s all fine, Eteri Georgievna, I’m in shape.” If it hadn’t been for me — there would have been corpses here today. She didn’t raise her voice. That made it even scarier. — Boys from 11D and you, Dima. Zhenya. Lyosha, — she calmly added. — Surround her. Don’t let her go. At that very moment, 11D and the male teachers arrived. Tutberidze leaned closer to Rodnina: — You see, Irina… We all choose wards. I and Shcherbakova — made the right choice. We pulled our own from the bottom. She looked directly into the biology teacher's eyes. — And you did not. You were mistaken. And you behaved like the lowest dog. Pause. — And remember: do not dare to humiliate those I take under my protection. Medvedeva is better than your Yazikova. In every way. 11D and the male teachers surrounded Rodnina. — Enough, enough! — a voice called out. Ilya Averbukh rushed into the room, followed by two police officers. Rodnina was escorted out. Without a word. Without a shout. When everything quieted down, Cherner looked at Gleichenhaus: — Alright. Now let’s be calm. What’s the essence of the problem? Daniil Markovich sighed heavily. — The problem is that we’ve turned a blind eye for too long. And we almost lost a child. Kamila stood, clutching Shcherbakova's sleeve. For the first time in a while — she felt safe. Yazikova stood in the shadow of the corridor, pressed against the wall. She had seen everything. How Kamila was shielded and protected. How Rodnina was taken away. How people closed ranks around Valieva to defend her. Katya smirked. A crooked smile. — It’s nothing... — she whispered to herself. — I’ll still get what’s mine. Kamila will still be mine. — No. The voice was steady. Deadpan. Katya flinched. Maya Kromykh stepped out from around the corner. Her face was entirely blank. No anger. No rage. No emotion. Her eyes — bright blue, as if reflecting someone else’s fire. — Kamila Valieva almost died, — Maya said calmly. — My friend. And Anna Stanislavovna too. She stepped a little closer. — I believe, — she continued in the same tone, — that you should answer in full. Someone in the corridor felt a strange heat. Not fire — pressure. Veins in Maya's arms bulged more sharply, her skin seeming to crack under the tension. — The threat is established, — she said, looking straight at Yazikova. — The decision: neutralize, expose, destroy reputation. Katya stumbled back. — You… you’re sick, — she tried to smile. — You’re just like me. — No. Maya’s hand was carefully but firmly captured. Gumennik. — Katya, — he rasped. — Come here. — Look at what you’ve done to Maya. Behind him stood 11D. They didn’t shout. They didn’t smile. They just moved forward. Yazikova was quickly cornered. Without fuss. Without hysteria. — It’s going to hurt now, — Georgiy said quietly. — Very much, — added Pyotr. Katya flinched. — Wait! You don’t have the right! I… I’m the victim! It’s all Valieva’s fault! — You’re lying, — Andrey cut in. The phone was already on. The camera aimed. — Tell us everything, — one of the boys said. — Everything. And Katya broke down. She screamed. Laughed. Cried. She recounted how she had tormented Valieva. How she had turned the teachers against her. How she had relished in the fear. How she repeated the same words, the same phrases. And when Maya stepped closer and quietly asked: — Do you like it, Katya? — When it happens to you like that? Well, don’t worry, you’ll love it, and you’ll love me. Yazikova was engulfed. Memory struck like a jolt. “You’ll like it…” “You’re mine…” The same words. The same tone. Katya let out a hysterical laugh: — This… this is what I said… to her… 11D remained silent. The video was rolling. Katya tried to straighten up. — Maya, — she whispered. — We’re the same. Do you understand? You and I… — No, — Dasha Usacheva interjected. She looked not with horror. But with understanding. — She is not you. — She has friends. — There are those who protect her. — And you have no one. The boys nodded. — And you won’t, — Gumennik said calmly. That was worse than any blow. Katya slowly sank to the floor. An empty gaze. A broken voice. — I… I am nobody… I am a Toy. Maya turned away. And at that moment, Katya realized: she hadn’t become strong. She hadn’t become special. She simply lost. And somewhere deep within, in the very rot of her consciousness, the last question rang out, making her truly frightened: Is Valieva… really that much better than me? When 11D brought Yazikova back, the corridor felt lifeless. Not the Katya who used to walk with her head held high. Not the one who trailed behind a cloud of rumors and self-assurance. Next to Maya Kromykh walked a pitiful shadow. Shouldered down. An empty gaze. Hands clenched as if she feared they would disappear. The girls from 11A fell silent almost at once. Someone averted their eyes. Someone clenched their fists. Someone — for the first time felt not gloating, but a cold, heavy “too much.” — Is that… her? — someone asked in a barely audible whisper. Anna Stanislavovna didn’t answer. She was still holding Kamila, her fingers white with tension. — Maya… — Dasha Usacheva stepped forward quietly. — Enough. Kromykh turned her head slowly. The power was still in her gaze — absolute, pressing. — She hasn’t apologized, — Maya said. — Not to Kamila. Not to the class. — You’ve already won, — Dasha whispered. — Come back. Maya looked at Yazikova. — On your knees, — she said calmly. — Loudly. Clearly. By names. Katya recoiled. Then… complied. — I… — her voice trembled. — I am guilty. She turned to 11A: — I tormented. — I lied. — I turned the teachers against her. Pause. — I’m sorry. And finally — a look at Kamila. — Forgive me, Valieva. Maya stepped closer — and for a moment Dasha saw the cliff. That very point, where one more step and there would be no turning back. But Maya stopped. Turned away. And that was the scariest thing of all. — Alright, — Daniil Markovich's voice was dull. — That’s… enough. — No, — Shcherbakova said sharply. — Not enough. There was fury in her eyes. Real fury. — I want official consequences. At all levels. — So do I, — Medvedeva supported. — That girl is dangerous. Cherner frowned: — I know people… — he paused. — Old acquaintances of Valery Ramazanov. I can introduce Ekaterina to them. Let them know who put Kamila in such a state. — Or sanitarians, — Gleichenhaus quietly added. — Or the police. And at that moment, a shout rang out: — BREAK HER, MAYA! BREAK HER! The voice of 11D echoed through the corridor. — ALRIGHT! — Yevgeny Semenenko roared. He stepped forward, looking directly at his students. — Breakers, calm down! — She is now part of the tribe. Pause. — Not as a member. — What she is now — we’ll figure it out later. He looked at Yazikova: — For now, you are a problem. In one word. Katya nodded. Without emotion. — Everyone calm down, — Tutberidze said. Silence obeyed her immediately. She looked at Dasha Usacheva: — Dasha. What do you want to say? — Let us have her, — Dasha said. The corridor gasped. — Me and Maya. — To psychologists. Under control. — Without past "jokes". — We’ll make… a new Katya. A normal one. Silence. Then — nods. — Parents? — Daniil asked. — Abroad, — he answered dryly a minute later, putting his phone away. — As always. No one noticed Katya’s gaze. On Kamila. On Anna Stanislavovna. And the thought that came too late: “Did I really need to give her something as simple as love and care to make her mine? Well, Anna Stanislavovna, you’ve won, honestly, she’s yours. Give her what she wants — love, warmth, and care.” She approached Shcherbakova and said — softly, almost a whisper. — Don’t make my mistake. — Don’t break her. No one except Anna heard that. Anna Stanislavovna froze. Then she looked at Kamila — shocked, trembling, alive. And held her even tighter, but gently against herself.