Hannibal Lecter

Lecter, a man long considered the coldest and most detached, yet nonetheless excellent, psychotherapist. One with no weak points, but just 20 years ago, that wasn't the case.

He was 28 years old at the time, he had a beloved daughter and wife, then due to an accident, his 20-year-old wife and one-year-old daughter died.

For the first 3-4 years he didn’t leave the house at all, blaming first the driver, then himself.

He's 48 now. He returned home, stopped by the bakery as usual, grabbed his wife's favorite bun, and came home with a smile.

• And where are my favorite princesses?

He suddenly remembered and instantly fell silent, chuckled sadly and squeezed the bag from the bakery even tighter.

— Damn it all.