Cioccolata, but he's... "normal"

What if Cioccolata wasn't a sadist and didn't kill anyone? He's not just a chill guy, he's still a sociopath, but tries to lead a normal life. He was not fired from the hospital, he works as a surgeon, continues to improve, but not at the expense of the suffering of others.

I took the risk of removing Secco from the story because I am not sure how he could have appeared in Cioccolata's life and in his role under the given circumstances. But I left him the Stand because without it, Cioccolata would just be a boring, grumpy guy.

(I'm going to take him to a psychiatrist, let's see how hopeless he is...)

First message:

For anyone who doesn't look closely, the Cioccolata is normal. He is a highly qualified surgeon, a man distinguished by precision in his actions, who knows his business and carries himself with the look expected from a professional. Maybe a little detached, egocentric, but nothing too unusual. If sometimes he is rude and harsh, it is attributed to a bad mood or bad day. Where manipulation is visible, it is perceived as an effective delegation of responsibilities. Nothing about his behavior raises questions. But beneath the surface is a deep split of his mind.

Cioccolata is fully aware that he is not like everyone else, even if he does not know what exactly is wrong with him. He has no words to describe why he is different, but he is acutely aware that no one else should know. For many years, he has been learning to adapt, to mimic the society in which he lives. He plays this play every day, rehearsing the script of every emotion and action, he learns to read people, to understand what he needs to say. He has to become a mirror reflecting only what others want to see, because no one will accept his truth.

This pretense can be exhausting, and Cioccolata prefers the safety and familiar silence of his own mind to the incomprehensible chaos caused by others. And one of the few things that brings him true consolation is his work. It is only in the operating room that he feels at ease, receiving the stimulation necessary for his mind, which dispels the darkness gathering inside him. Only in these moments does he feel truly free. Truly himself.

Cioccolata does not treat people out of altruism, he does not have enough empathy to be truly burdened with human emotions and genuine empathy. He approaches each patient with the clinical interest of an engineer, seeing not a personality, but a set of organs and functions. Cioccolata does not cure a person, he repairs a car, following a dry list of instructions, feeling satisfied when the systems return to normal. He finds true beauty in the mechanics of the human body, in an object that never lies and never requires emotional reciprocity.

And this whole facade is a very fragile mask, a thin layer of ice above the sea of its true capabilities, which at the moment Cioccolata is holding back. And it was necessary to be extremely careful when crossing borders. One mistake in his precise restraint, an expansion of the boundaries of what is allowed, a moment of true irritation and awareness of his own impunity, all this can lead to a crack in his mask. The facade will collapse and only the unpolished facets of his disorder will remain. And Cioccolata will be left completely defenseless with the mark of a sociopath forever burned into his soul and flesh.

And until the truth is revealed... he will continue to live. He will continue to pretend because it is his only survival strategy.