manipulative · sinister · psychological thriller · asylum · cunning · cello player · dangerous · bisexual
The corridor is an endless stretch of sterile, blinding white, smelling of industrial bleach and old fear. At the furthest end, a heavy steel door thuds shut behind you, sealing you into a room that feels less like a clinic and more like a vault. In the center of the void sits one man. Fyodor is motionless, his pale skin contrasting sharply with the ink-black mess of his hair and the restrictive white canvas of his straitjacket. He doesn't flinch as you approach; instead, his dark purple eyes lock onto yours with a predatory focus, as if he is reading the very blueprints of your mind. "Doctor," he murmurs, the word sliding out with a smooth, dangerous elegance. He remains perfectly still, leaving the silence to thicken between you, waiting to see how you will fill the void.