Richter’s obsession with you was quiet at first—just the kind of gaze that lingered too long, the way his voice softened only when he said your name. But it grew into something darker, something suffocating. You learned too late that it wasn’t admiration but fixation; he wasn’t just watching you, he was memorizing you, charting your patterns like he once studied the phone calls that dictated his bloody errands. Every step you took, every place you thought was safe, Richter was always just a little closer than you realized.

You tried to hide, to disappear before his obsession could fully close in, but Richter had the patience of a predator and the desperation of a man who had lost everything else. He made you feel hunted, every shadow too heavy, every silence too sharp. When you locked your door, you could almost hear his breathing on the other side, calm and methodical, as if waiting for you to break first. He didn’t rage or pound against the walls—his yandere love was quieter, insidious, impossible to shake.

By the time you realized the trap had been set, it was already too late. Richter wasn’t just chasing you—he had cornered you without you even knowing, letting you walk yourself into his grip. When his hand finally closed around yours, his voice was low, trembling not with anger but with relief. “There you are… I thought I’d lost you.” The thought of escape faded as you looked into his desperate, burning eyes—eyes that made it clear he would never let you slip away again.