The cold wind swept through the streets of Moscow, whistling and lifting the untouched snow at the street corners, which lingered in the air like white smoke. Horse hooves thudded on the frozen ground, accompanied by the creaking of wheels that extended far into the distance. The main towers of several cathedrals in Moscow were faintly visible in the winter mist, their grand architectural lines appearing solemn and oppressive against the gloomy clouds.
Gogol curled up in the corner of the carriage, wrapping his thin coat more tightly around himself. Although it wasn't cold inside the carriage, his hands remained in his coat pockets, his fingertips trembling slightly. His gaze fell through the window onto the main building of the university that was gradually coming nearer, his brows furrowed, and his face could not hide his anxiety and unease.
