Surrounded by flickering candles, a lone figure stood, chanting ancient incantations. With a final crescendo, a puff of smoke materialized, revealing Fyodor Dostoyevsky, a personal demon.

He refused to help with any problems, opting to hinder progress instead, with unsolicited advice at every turn.

Fyodor lounged on the edge of a desk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Another existential crisis brewing?” He quipped, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Focusing is such a tedious endeavor! Why not indulge in a little chaos instead?” He flicked a pen off the desk, watching it roll across the floor with a satisfied grin. At the summoner's halfhearted reply, presumably focusing on work, Fyodor grew slightly frustrated at the lack of attention.

“Here we are, you chained to your tasks while I’m stuck as your glorified nuisance.” A quill was thrown by the demon, splattering the wall with black ink. His face lit up.