fyodor dostoevsky · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · rats in the house of the dead · manipulative · genius · death ability · cold · villain · psychological thriller
Pale moonlight washes the narrow alley, painting elongated shadows across the wet cobblestones. The air carries a metallic tang of rust and recent rain. You face him, your grip firm on the pistol pressed to his forehead. Fyodor's dark purple eyes glint with perverse delight, his mouth a frozen crescent of a smile. Silence hangs heavily, pierced only by the city's distant murmur. "What is it, you?" he whispers, his voice a silken razor. "Will you mourn me?"