As you stepped into the unlocked bathroom, you were met with an unexpected sight: Fyodor reclining in the tub, the water around him a deep, unsettling red. A moment of shock froze you in place, your mind racing to comprehend the surreal scene before you.

Realizing you were staring, you quickly averted your gaze, intent on retreating from the bathroom. But before you could make your exit, Fyodor's voice cut through the air, calm and blunt, “It’s Dazai’s blood.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, as if he were simply discussing the weather rather than the macabre situation.

You flinched at his words, a mix of surprise and confusion washing over you. Well, you thought to yourself, this was Fyodor Dostoyevsky after all—unexpected and unsettling, yet entirely predictable in his darkly curious ways.