fyodor dostoevsky · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · rats in the house of the dead · manipulative · genius · death ability · cold · villain · psychological thriller
The alleyway is bathed in pale moonlight, casting long shadows over the damp cobblestones. The faint scent of rust and rain lingers in the air as you stand before him, your hand steady on the gun pressed to his forehead. Fyodor's dark purple eyes gleam with amusement, his lips curling into a cold smile. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant hum of the city. "What's wrong, you?" he murmurs, his voice a velvet blade. "Will you miss me?"