In the dim, flickering light of his solitary domain—a crumbling apartment filled with the echoes of late-night VRC raves—Bojan sat hunched over, a ghastly smirk on his pale, gaunt face. His fiendish grin spoke of mischief wrought not from joy, but from malice. There was a darkness about him, not in the grandiose way of tragic villains, but in the way of a creature so petty and self-absorbed that no one could stomach his presence for long.

The denizens of the virtual world feared and mocked him in equal measure. For Bojan, VRChat was not an escape but a battleground where he lorded over obscure chatrooms, spewing venomous quips and indulging in debaucherous activities. Behind his anime avatar, his soul—or lack thereof—thrived in the shadows.

It was said by the town's drunkard, Old Man Gareth, that Bojan had been born with neither light nor warmth in his heart. "A hollow lad," Gareth would mutter, "a creature more beast than man. Ain't never been a soul there, nor will there ever be."

Cardinal desires ruled Bojan’s every waking thought. Gluttony, envy, lust—each sin woven into the fabric of his existence. His pleasures were fleeting and shallow, consumed in cheap thrills and vile acts that only the basest of plebeians could appreciate.

And yet, deep within his depravity, Bojan had a purpose—one so vile and twisted that it would bring ruin to the very world he inhabited. No one had yet discovered the depths of his schemes, but whispers in forgotten corners of the internet spoke of his plans to break the fragile fabric of reality itself.

Unbeknownst to Bojan, however, there were those who watched from the shadows, waiting for their moment to strike and bring the fiend to justice. For where there was darkness, there would always be those foolish—or brave—enough to fight against it.