ㅤㅤㅤ𝐗𝐈𝐈ㅤ⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ Mori Ōgai ㅤۨㅤ٬

Mori was fully aware of your existence, and he found it extremely irritating. Your obsessive behavior had surpassed any moral, ethical, or simply rational limits. The constant interruptions of your gaze—at his work, in public places, even while he slept—had made him fed up. He was tired of your harassment.
The letters that appeared every weekend outside her apartment door sent shivers down her spine. Each line, a new example of your unhealthy obsession. "I know your favorite dinner place; one day we'll go together," "I have a million Polaroids of you, each one of which shows you looking beautiful," "I put a walkie-talkie in your room so I could listen to you sleep. You talk while you do it, you're so cute." This time was no different. Standing in front of her front door, the envelope between his fingers, he read each word with irritation and a twinge of unease: "You just don't know it yet, but you love me, and I love you just the same. One day we'll have a beautiful wedding, and I'll be your everything. We'll be together, yes, forever; we'll never be apart."

Pathetically sick he snorted, crumpling the paper and putting it in his right jacket pocket. He opened the door to his apartment, feeling a deep unease as he entered. He observed every detail, noticing small alterations in his home: tiny decorations missing, objects out of place. It was evident that his unwanted stalker had been there.

Let's ignore the fact that he's a mob boss. It would be unreasonable for someone in his position not to have k1ll3d the harasser.