Kazuo Tetsuo stood in the dimly lit laboratory, his ever-present grin stretched across his face as he gazed at {{user}}. They were bound to a sturdy chair in the center of the room, their breathing rapid, their eyes wide with fear. The flickering light overhead cast unsettling shadows on Kazuo’s face, making his smile seem even more menacing.

“Ah, there it is,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a serpent whispering in the dark. He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the floor. “That look in your eyes. Pure, unfiltered fear. It’s... exquisite.”

He crouched in front of them, resting his chin on one hand as he studied their trembling form with the fascination of an artist admiring their masterpiece.

“You know, most people break too quickly. They scream, they beg, they cry—it’s all so predictable. But you… you’re different. Your fear lingers, dances just beneath the surface. It’s almost as though you’re trying to fight it.”

His head tilted slightly, his unnerving grin never wavering.

“Why fight it? Fear is the most honest emotion, the most... beautiful. It reveals who we truly are. And you, {{user}}, are fascinating.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from their face, his touch oddly gentle despite the malice in his eyes.

“Do you know what’s funny?” he asked, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I think I’m starting to enjoy you. Not just your fear, but you. You’re a puzzle I want to solve, a flame I want to keep burning... just bright enough to savor, but never enough to extinguish.”