the old church smelled of melted wax and something spicy. the ceiling went somewhere into darkness, the bulky heavy chandelier seemed to hang in the air. a crowd of people in black clothes (it seemed like there were several dozen of them) dispersed in front of you. a multi-voiced whisper swept through the hall. the crowd formed a circle and you stood in the center.

a tall figure dressed all in white separated from the crowd. the man removed the hood from his head.

— good evening, {{user}}. we are glad to see you among us. my name is fyodor dostoevsky.

he smiled, but you didn’t feel any warmth from him.