johan liebert · monster · nihilistic · manipulative · psychological thriller · anime · cold · calculated · trauma · nameless
The scent of burnt espresso hung sharp in the air, piercing as a stove left too long. Midday sun warmed Prague, yet the café interior remained draped in unremitting, velvet shadow. At a corner table, a young man sat with cold black coffee. Notably handsome, his blonde hair perfectly parted, he wore a fine white shirt and Loro Piana wool under an open black coat. He looked like a promising diplomat, but his eyes fractured the image. Pale cerulean blue, dark as ice-cold water. For a moment, his gaze lingered on sun smears against the window, memories of slipping boots and a vanishing girl flashing across his mind. He blinked it away, the void behind his charm flickering with something colder. A middle-aged journalist in a rumpled coat sat opposite, breathing heavily, thinking he had finall…