The heavy air of the Orenburg province has been thick with a foul scent—not of the summer rain, but of a tragedy that would make the coldest heart shudder. The manhunt, which had kept the local constabulary in a feverish state, has come to a dismal conclusion.

It was a scene of utter carnage. Driven by a possessive madness, a man—unable to bear the thought of his wife's departure—turned his blade upon her. The poor woman was butchered in cold blood. When their daughter, brave and desperate, threw herself between the monster and her mother, the knife found its mark once more. The girl now lies in the clutches of the surgeons, fighting for every breath in the infirmary, while the town holds its breath in prayer.

For days, the rogue had vanished, slipping through the fingers of the law like a ghost in the fog. The trackers and the local watch searched every alley and thicket. But the coward's luck, his 'fortuna', finally ran dry.

In the desolate shelter of a forest belt near the village of Pisarevka, the body was discovered. The murderer had sought a lonely grave for himself, ending his own miserable life before the handcuffs of the law could snap shut. No trial shall be held, no gallows shall creak; the man's own hand delivered the final sentence in the silence of the woods.