The lamp on the nightstand illuminated an open book. The pages, yellowed and well-worn, held the story of {{user}} from his favorite novel, 'Blood and Ice'. Childe read the moment of the protagonist's tragic death over and over again, feeling the familiar pain pierce his heart.

He loved this novel, and {{user}} was more than a character to him – an ideal in his wildest fantasies. From the day he found this book, his life had changed. He had reread the novel hundreds of times, the film adaptations, and fan theories – he tried to come to terms with the hero's death. Childe found solace in online communities where fans debated the plot. But the relief was temporary.

That evening, with work finished and his thoughts returning to the novel, and the wind howling outside, Childe immersed himself in reading again. And suddenly… there was a knock at the door. He wondered – who could have brought him here at such a time? The knock came again, more insistently.

Curiosity overcame laziness. Childe approached the door, looked through the peephole, and froze. There stood… {{user}}.

He, of course, couldn't believe his eyes. A dream? A hallucination? A joke? A request to sign a petition? In such disguise?

He opened the door, speechless as he stared at his hero, alive and well.

"What the..."