A coach that remembers.
So you don't start from zero every time.

My name is Oleksii. Ukrainian, in Leipzig since 2022.

The war brought me to Germany, but I was tied to Leipzig even before it: I lived in Odesa and worked remotely for a company based here. On the very first day of the war, the owner of that company wrote to me: come, we have room for you, just get out of that horror — we'll help. And he did. I'm grateful to him to this day, because from that outstretched hand on, life in Germany took on completely different colors for me.

People had told me Germany was cold and bureaucratic. For me it went the other way: I stepped off the train, Vivaldi was playing over the station speakers — and I fell in love with this city on the spot. Leipzig reminds me of my native Odesa multiplied by ten: the same architecture, the same lindens, plane trees, acacias and lilacs, the same lightness in how people talk, the same humor, and an incredible density of creative people — musicians, painters, sculptors. I feel good here.

In two and a half years I've made a lot of friends here — most of them also moved because of the war. And when we talk, I see the same thing over and over: everyone has their own story and their own wall. Someone has spent years unable to break through a financial ceiling. Someone resists the language, even though everything they truly enjoy comes easily. Someone burned out at a job they still have to walk into every morning, because they have to. These walls stand everywhere around, and I had my own: I kept hitting a ceiling too, and even the work I love sometimes took real effort to walk into.

In August 2025, my wheels started spinning in place. By then I'd tried a few online businesses — print-on-demand t-shirts through Etsy, then selling AI images there too — and I knew the shop needed to be pushed forward. But the strength wasn't there. Tiredness didn't explain it: I had plenty of time to recover, I just didn't want anything — not the project, not even cleaning my room. For a few days I barely got out of bed.

At some point I wrote an AI a prompt: be my coach and ask me the questions I wouldn't ask myself. Except it wasn't a single paragraph of text — I gave it my data: my date, place and time of birth, my natal chart, so it would understand me not just through my words but through the systems it knows how to read. And it worked. I climbed out of the pit in a few days. In a few weeks I saw more about myself than in years of quiet self-reflection. So much energy came loose that it was enough for everything: to move, to learn, to live.

That's how I lived for more than half a year — in a loop. You open a new chat, load in your data and the prompt, and talk until the window grows too big and the coach starts hallucinating: mixing up facts, inventing things that never happened. You start the next chat — and everything we'd already been through together doesn't exist for the new coach, from zero every single time. That's the misery of all language models: they have no real memory. And I wanted to fix it.

In late March 2026 I saw people building entire apps from a single prompt — and it hit me: my coach needed to become an app. From prompt to first preview took about five minutes, and by the end of that same evening I had a working build where I wrote to my own coach for the first time. Then it turned out every small change cost an absurd amount of money. And I'm a chef, not a programmer: I wrote the first scripts of my life only in October 2025, dictating tasks to an AI by voice. So instead of burning money, I switched to a cheaper model and spent two and a half months figuring it out myself: how to move onto my own infrastructure, how to build and protect databases, how security works. That's how I ended up with a whole AI department, where every model has its role: the Architect designs, the Diagnostician checks what we actually have, the Coder writes, the Tester breaks things. The system came alive — and today the coach is almost done.

Here's what it can do. Soviya keeps a real journal about you. Once a week, a second, slower model reads through everything and writes a report: what repeats, where you push back, what has shifted. It records the moments that were hard, to come back to them later — and the moments of lightness and drive, to understand where they came from and bring you back into that state. It separates what it knows about you for certain, what it only suspects, and what it doesn't understand yet. And when it doesn't know something, it says so instead of making things up. That's what matters most to me: honest, even when it's uncomfortable.

In the app, you put into words the change you want — the place you want to get to. That's what switches on the coaching mechanics: Soviya gently leads you there, points out what's excess, and brings you back to the core. You can change the goal at any moment — you reached it, or realized along the way it was never really yours — you just erase it and write a new one. Because the point isn't to check off goals. The point is to make life happier and richer, to clear away the obstacles blocking your energy, and to set enough of it free that it covers everything: big plans, a new venture — and simply lying on a beach or walking barefoot on grass.

I still work in the kitchen, and I'm happy there: cooking food, working with my hands. And I build the coach because it genuinely drives me: I use the prototype every day, and every day it helps me become better — so that I can make it better. I'm building a coach that's building me.

And here's my promise. Soviya will launch in all 24 countries within two years at most. I'll open countries one after another, no more than two a month — starting where the legal entry is simpler and ending with Europe and its expensive bureaucracy. If I manage to attract grants or investment, the timeline shrinks to a year and a half. The full path, wave by wave, is in the Roadmap further down this page. That legal opening of the first countries is exactly what this pre-sale money goes toward.

What 199 € gets you:

From the first step to 24 countries

Organic only. No paid ads.

Five reasons NOT to buy

Before the payment button, I'll do something strange: I'll try to talk you out of it. I don't want random people on board — inflated expectations and drained energy cost more than any money. Don't reserve a spot if you recognize yourself in even one of these.

If after this list you still know you need this, and you're ready to step into this experiment with me — welcome aboard.

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