Krechet: Blood Is Not Water

I’m not at all who I’m used to thinking I am. And my dad is not my father. In me flows blood of a great ducal line from the interstellar Russian Empire.

If only I wanted to show up in my father’s house, he would lay out a carpet for me to walk on! But is that a reason to abandon my plans and rush to relatives who have been living without me for so many years? A serious question. The answer is not clear. And especially when hormones of an eighteen-year-old boy are raging inside you—capable of taking you anywhere…