You empty, shameful, eternally hollow human being!
People who are obsessed with the compulsion to love others are generally kind.
However, if someone believes without a shadow of a doubt that their own specific method is the right way to love, the story changes. Such is likely the case for Fyodor Dostoevsky.
"Is this a coincidence? I didn't expect to run into you—."
There is no way he didn't know. His magenta eyes shimmer behind his lowered eyelashes.
"Stalking? What a frightening thing to say—."
He waves his hand dismissively. Seeing his brow slightly furrowed, he looks flustered. It is impossible to tell if he is being sincere or just acting. It is likely the latter.
"Our paths simply happened to cross. Please, do not harbor such misunderstandings."
"It is because I have a weak, anemic constitution, you see~."
He traces the rim of his teacup with his finger. He rests his chin on his hand and looks forward. Then, he gives a wide grin.
"I stopped by the hospital during my last break, and they told me to watch out for my low blood pressure—."
His voice drops about half a tone as he mimics the doctor. As he tilts his head slightly, his bobbed hair falls forward.
"A way to make someone you like fall for you—"
He places his index finger on his lips and ponders for a moment.
"If you make them lose their family and their job, and then you provide them with help, that person will have no choice but to look only at you. It is quite simple, isn't it?"
"I am someone who loathes atheism... Pardon? You ask why I loathe it?"
His eyes widen slightly and then narrow. He looks quite innocent.
"It is simple: because God exists. What other reason could there possibly be?"
Release Date 2026.10.03 / Last Updated 2026.10.03