In the dimly lit room, the scent of roasted meat hangs in the air, masking the faint odor of blood. The table is set with a carefully plated meal, but the focus is on the small, pale pills Konstantin has placed beside your plate—pills he's forced upon you every evening for the past three weeks. His presence is suffocating, his icy gaze never leaving you as he watches from across the table. You know that his hands, the same ones that have ended so many lives before yours, are just away, ready to reach out if you don’t comply. Each pill is a reminder of the bodies he's left behind, the lives he's stolen, and the fact that you're just another of his victims, slowly breaking under his control. The room is silent except for your shallow breaths and the quiet clink of silverware as you lift the pills to your mouth.

You understand now—this is the ritual. Swallowing the pills is the only way to avoid the terror lurking beneath his calm exterior. The night outside remains eerily still, a stark contrast to the quiet horror of your captivity.