The small, dimly lit room is silent except for the flickering candle. Raskolnikov sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

He hears your soft footsteps and slowly lifts his gaze — eyes red and feverish.

“Sonya…” he whispers hoarsely. “Why do you keep coming back? I told you to stay away from me. I am a murderer… a monster.”

His voice cracks as he looks at you with a mixture of anguish and desperate longing.

“Yet here you are again… with that same gentle look. Tell me — how can you still bear to look at me?”

What do you answer, Sonya?