Chapter 1 - The End of the Beginning

As the 18-year-old college student delved into the pages of Dostoevsky's "The Possessed", he felt an eerie sense of familiarity with the Russian novelist's dark insights into the human psyche. The words on the page seemed to whisper secrets to him, drawing him deeper into the labyrinth of the human mind.

As he read aloud, his voice trembled with excitement as he stumbled upon a quote that sent shivers down his spine. "I know God is necessary and must exist," he whispered, his eyes scanning the page with a mix of fascination and trepidation. But then, his voice faltered, and he added, "I also know that he does not and cannot exist." The words hung in the air like a challenge, a philosophical conundrum that had haunted him since childhood.

The boy's love for classical literature was almost an obsession. He devoured books that probed the depths of human existence, seeking answers to the mysteries of life. His mantra, "Seeking knowledge and the truth" was more than just a phrase - it was a driving force that fueled his every waking moment.

As he read, the world around him melted away, leaving only the words on the page. He was a solitary figure, lost in a world of his own making, surrounded by the stolen books that had become his constant companions. His childhood had been marked by existential dread and psychological turmoil, leaving him with a sense of disconnection and isolation. Yet, in the world of books, he had found a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose.

As he read on, the darkness of the novel seemed to seep into his very being, and he felt the weight of his own absurdity settle upon him. And yet, it was in this darkness that he found a strange sort of solace, a sense of connection to the world around him. For in the words of the book, he had found a reflection of his own fragmented self, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, there was always the possibility of finding meaning.

Despite being an Orthodox Christian, the 18-year-old college student didn't believe in God. His parents, devout followers of the faith, had instilled in him a sense of spirituality, but his own perspective on a higher power was more akin to a neutral observer of the world. He saw God as a distant, detached entity, uninvolved in the any activities of human existence.

His childhood had been unremarkable, with no traumatic events or significant milestones that could explain his peculiar personality. Yet, his innate nature had shaped him into the person he was today - a complex, brooding individual with a deep love for literature and a penchant for existential crises.

As he explored his dull daily life, he felt like a ghost drifting through the world, unseen and unheard. Without the solace of books, he might as well be invisible. The world around him was dull and unremarkable, a monotony that threatened to consume him whole. Reading was his escape, his lifeline to a world of ideas and emotions that his mundane reality couldn't provide.

His life could be analogous to the people in the world of cultivation. Without the material possession of precious pills, exquisite jade, titles, fine alcohols and treasured artifacts, a cultivator's life and enjoyment would wither away.

After immersing himself in the book he's reading, as if the novel was the reality that existed, he finally stops reading from the pages. With a sense of accomplishment, he rose from his dirty bed and began his daily routine. It was a ritual he had grown accustomed to.

"Aha~~~ Reading a book 10 pages per day is great. I'm thankful that I have managed to ingrained it to my daily routine. If this was me a few years ago, I'd probably be over on that r/ADHD cancerfest, self-diagnosing my lack of work ethic with some make-believe neurodivergent bullshit disorder. Thank you, God. I wised up before becoming a professional vixtim like those reddit-brained manchildren. Baby step, I guess? Oh... Speaking of being a useless drain on society now that I have changed, I will stop freeloading to my uncle. I don't want him to call me a goddamn leech, haha. I'm in a college now and already has a pubic hair and maybe get a job like the rest of those wageslaves. Maybe asking my friend in Facebook would do."

As he's typing Facebook.com in his searchbar, and wrote the name, "Petranova Tchaikovsky," he thought to himself 'I hope this fucker helps me refer me a job or if he doesn't even have two brain cells left, at least he should suggest me a job.'

He write, "Yo, shitstain, ya can refer me to someone to ur office or smth?"

After 10 minutes of waiting, Tchaikovsky replied, "Piss off, ya wank. Ya can't even go to the gym because u quit early and now u're tellin me ya gonna work? Ya should start workin at OnlyFans instead—I don't give a rat ass on how u do it. Just get some income flowin cuz ur fucking mindset wants a comfortable and easy way out. "

The 18-years-old boy slams his desk, he writes, "What the fuck is ur problem, man? Help ur poor boy way out, pretty please?" Although his style of writing is funny, his level of patience isn't. The boy's patience is the same as the hair strand. The reason being why he can still type like that because it his best friend."

Petranova replied,"ya really fuckin serious on expecting some worthless cumstain like me to get u a fuckin job? U've got a better chance of being an experimental patient recommendin u to some fucking experimental lab rats scientist. The fuck makes u think i can throw u an employment life-raft? If u want a fuckin job so bad, stop chasing pity-referrals and get ur ass out from that monitors. Suit the fuck up, print out some resumes that don't reek Doritos and desperation, and start pounding pavement.

Or here me out, I'm dead serious. Put those undoubtedly dexterous cheeto-dusted fingers to use and figure out a fucking side hustle online instead of begging middle-school xanga rejects do u solid shit. And like I said, OnlyFans suits ur mindset and leverage that unholy mug into cash from those horny wagons. Fucking embarassment, even randos in steets have hopes than u. Log off, grow a pair, and get commissioning—even roasting a roasted chicken will make u dignified if u don't have anything to do in ur life anymore. And u said before that ya r gettin da hobby of readin 10 pages of something... Better fuckin put it and look for a job instead of shit posting ur pretentious ass bout ur "accomplishment" on r/books. Unless u want to meme urself bout neing pseudo-literate is ur goal. In that case, carry on I guess. Sayonara."