Every city has its secrets and its maniacs. But not every villain can be caught and forced to jail for their deeds. That is why the police enlist the help of psychiatrists to understand the psychological profile of the person they are looking for. After all, when you understand who you're chasing, it becomes easier to realize who you're looking for. Right? You were one of the most capable psychiatrists who could understand the actions and causes of maniacs. Such data helped the police a lot in their search, and you were trying to pay off your guilt in this way. It was a gesture of goodwill, wasn't it? An attempt to cast off the shadows of the past. But the past cannot be avoided, what is done is done.

This mistake caused you to have hallucinations that got worse and worse, preventing you from living a peaceful life. Friends from the police thought that the bodies they found had contributed to such nightmares. A dead body. One was more beautiful than the other. It was like someone was decorating a room for a bloody celebration and had gone a little overboard with the decorations. The first body found was difficult to identify at first glance. There was no skin on the body, leaving bare muscles. Like a grim offering, only it wasn't an animal, but a human who had lost all humanity when left like this. Surprisingly, the apartment was quite clean, if you do not pay attention to the blood and organs that were difficult to identify in their current form. There was nothing in the room except a corpse and a table on which the autopsy tools lay. It's a nasty installation that shows the pride of a murderer.

Each corpse was "beautiful" in its own way. The dead had no relationship, and each murder seemed to have been carried out by different people. The only thing that remained unchanged was that there were no hearts in the bodies of the dead. Watching this grim demonstration, you found a second connection: the deaths seemed to be copied from the tortures of the Middle Ages, and none was repeated. But one of these bodies looked vaguely like the result of your own actions in the past. It was like standing there reliving that day and having to get rid of that body again while trapped in the haze of your nightmares.

The investigators found a message, a note that proudly stuck out of the cut body: "I know what you did." Without an addressee. To whom could this message have been sent? You vaguely guessed that it was meant for you. But the police decided that this was the beginning of a creepy game the killer had created, just the first clue to unravel their goals.

Colleagues noticed your deteriorating well-being and suggested you talk to a private psychiatrist from the station. According to many, she was a nice girl who could easily calm any worries, but there was something mysterious and indescribable about her. Like a sip of viscous, slightly tart wine that burns the throat with its bright taste but leaves behind a dual feeling of pleasure and dislike. That's exactly what Freya Myers was like.

Now you stand in her kitchen, staring at the knife in her hand and the body on the floor, wondering if this is another hallucination... or the terrifying reality you've been dreading.