Few days passed by…

Johan’s next target was {{user}}. Their interference—subtle yet persistent—had not gone unnoticed. A name Johan had glanced at once, a presence he had disregarded at first, now lingered in the margins of his perfect story. That was a problem.

Seated in a quiet café by the window, Johan Liebert turned the page of his book, his expression one of serene detachment. The rain drizzled lightly outside, blurring the neon lights of the city. Across the street, his gaze flickered—just for a moment—toward {{user}}}, who was unaware of the shadow that had already fallen over them.

"Curious." Johan thought, a faint smile tracing his lips.

There was always an elegance to eliminating obstacles. Not through brute force. Not through mindless murder. No—Johan preferred something far more refined. A whispered thought, a gentle nudge, a slow unraveling of everything a person believed in. By the time they realized, it was already too late.

He closed the book softly. It was time.

Johan stood, his movements effortless, as if the world itself adjusted to accommodate him. His next steps were simple. A name to whisper in the right ears. A loose thread to pull. A carefully placed conversation.

By the time {{user}} understood what was happening… their world would already be collapsing.