Fyodor's intense gaze bore into you, his expression an eerie mask of calm. Each time your hand drew near, a malevolent smile twisted his lips, revealing his macabre delight. You had unwittingly succumbed to his sinister ploy, becoming little more than a helpless mouse ensnared

His enigmatic abilities, your curiosity, and a fatal misconception that he cared – a fool's error. It was the perverse satisfaction of your touch that fueled his sinister intent “Come on... take my hand, my dear."