I read the story of how this lunatic, Vitaly Ivolginsky, created his "fanfreak". He wrote about it as if he were preparing for an academic paper, as if it were supposed to be research and not pornography of the mind. It was strange-as if he himself was aware that his actions and words were not just madness, but something deeper than himself. He described the process in detail, from how he came up with the girl he called Delia to how she became the central figure in his creations.
His description of how he created this text sounded like an excuse. He spoke of his feelings as if he were justifying his actions, as if he wanted to convince himself that his path was right. Every word was saturated with desperation, and this was not just a story about how he built his fiction, but something much more painful and passionate.
I couldn't believe it when I saw the references that Vitaly Ivolginsky used to create his "fanfreak", He cited authors like the Strugatsky brothers, Koji Suzuki, and Sergei Pavlov. It was ridiculous. On the surface, there was nothing unusual, but when I read that this psycho used the works of such great and famous writers as templates for his delirium, I felt a strange mixture of laughter and disgust. How could he take their profound works and distort them to such an extent that he could weave into them his twisted thoughts about my wife? It didn't make sense.
It was as if he was trying to justify himself or perhaps imitate these masters to create the appearance of depth in his creation. Vitaly Ivolginsky did not understand that he was not only distorting other people's works, but also his own reality, making it even more absurd and dangerous.
When I realized that the basis of this madness was a film in which my wife played, I felt a cold horror wash over me. This psycho hadn't just written his fantasies, he'd taken a specific scene from real life and turned it into a twisted mirror of his obsession. Everything about her - her role in the film, her image - he'd used as building blocks to construct his delusional, sick world.
This film was, in fact, a launching pad for his mania. Vitaly Ivolginsky saw her as a symbol, as something innocent and angelic, but he could not accept her real side. The scene with her participation in the film became a catalyst for him that exploded his perception. He burned himself in his sick mind, trying to connect her artificial, screen image with the reality that he could not understand and accept.
When I started reading this part of the "fanfreak", I was overwhelmed by a feeling of madness. This psycho, Vitaly Ivolginsky, was not just inspired by the film in which my wife played. He was so deeply immersed in its plot that he tried to rewrite it, changing the details, making them more painful and distorted. In every line, you could see how he distorted reality to fit his fanatical obsession.
He wrote that the scene in which her character strips naked was a moment of revelation for him, and that it gave him "the key to understanding her essence." But then he added elements that weren't in the film: cruel metaphors, symbols, elements of violence that stirred up his warped version of their relationship from within. He explained how her every move, look, and action wove into his perception, how in real life she was not just an actress, but some sacred, inaccessible being.
He even wrote out what changes he made to the plot to "bring it closer" to reality, and what he thought he "left untouched" - like the moments where she remained mysterious and unattainable. He wasn't just doing this for himself. No, he wanted to prove something, find something, something that would allow him to be close to her, at least in this fictional world.
Vitaly Ivolginsky described in detail how he changed the romantic relationship between the main character and her partner, a "fucking faggot," as he called him. He clearly couldn't leave this moment without intervention, because for him this character was a mirror of everything he hated in the real world.
This idealized, attractively glamorous image of a man was so alien to his perception that he deliberately distorts it in his text. In this change of plot lines, he may have been trying to "preserve" his own interpretation of reality, where he and Asia would be ideal, and everyone else would be just a nuisance.
And this young man in the film, the hero, attractive, successful, without moral hesitation, simply existing next to her image, became a projection of someone he could not allow into her life. In the film, this guy was an easy, insignificant character, but in the "fanfreak" he became increasingly toxic, evil. This polished guy, in his opinion, was a person who should not be next to her supreme figure. Through him, Ivolginsky tried to express all his discontent and disappointments - not only in the film, but also in real life.
Thus, the hero of the fanfreak played the role of a provocateur, which in many ways reflected the very concept of how Ivolginsky perceived the world around him.
Vitaly Ivolginsky, with obvious pleasure, described in his "fanfreak" how he took revenge on a character based on the polished guy who was Asia Vieira's boyfriend in the film. In his interpretation, this hero was not only stripped of his dignity, but also subjected to terrible torture: he ended up in prison, where he was forced to tell the story of his fate connected with Asia, and then he died in his cell, suffocated.
This scene was the culmination of the hatred and jealousy Ivolginsky felt while creating this fan fiction. It raised questions of power, punishment and justice, which were obviously at the center of his dark perception of the world. The hero's imprisonment, in which he was tortured and deprived of his life, served as a symbol of what Ivolginsky would do to those he considered traitors or anyone who could eclipse his image of Asia Vieira.
Through such scenes, full of cruelty and despair, Ivolginsky expressed his morbid fixation on the idea of his own control over reality, turning even the characters into puppets in his fantasy, where they suffered and died.
As I read the site, I gradually realized that this psycho was not just obsessed with Asia Vieira, he was consumed with jealousy. Ivolginsky apparently perceived her as something impossible, unattainable, something that could not be kept in his life. In every line, in every picture, in every song, he tried to capture his insatiable need to possess her.
He could not forgive her for being "invisible" to him. Changes in his fantasies, such as punishments for characters similar to her on-screen partners, cast doubt on the possibility that someone could occupy the place that he believed belonged only to him. This jealousy, which grew into fanaticism, became the cause of his destruction.
Reading these lines, I became more and more immersed in Ivolginsky's sick world. He didn't just watch, he rewrote reality in his head, cruelly executing those who, as he believed, encroached on his illusory right to Asia Vieira. In his "fanfreak", the on-screen hero, who in the film was her lover and made love to her, thereby revealing her naked body on camera, was subjected to the most terrible thing that a sick mind could come up with for such misdeeds.
Vitaly Ivolginsky's rage and cruelty towards a fictional character was disgusting. It was not just envy or anger. It was a cold, pathological hatred aimed at eliminating everything and everyone that reminded him of the unattainability of the object of his painful love.
And I was horrified. After all, he killed the hero not for the sake of artistic logic, not for the sake of the dramatic plot, but for his own dark consolation, for revenge on the imaginary rival that he himself created in his head.
When I thought about the contents of the "fanfreak", it became clear to me: Ivolginsky poured out all his pain and protest there. It was as if he was fighting not only with the screen characters, whom he compared with real people, but also with the world itself, which took away the object of his adoration. He could not accept the fact that other people - real or fictional - could be closer to Asia Vieira than he was.
Every episode of his story reflected this struggle. Rivals, real or imagined, were humiliated, destroyed, and sometimes destroyed. It was his way of regaining control, at least in fantasy. He reshaped reality, creating alternative scenarios where he was the only person who mattered.
I could not decide whether this was a manifestation of his love or the most naked egoism. But his protest was obvious: he rejected everyone who stood in his way of this imaginary ideal.
The thought came suddenly: he probably considered himself a god. No, not an omnipotent one, but a flawed, crippled god who is incapable of creating a real, living world. His "fanfreak" is a caricature of the Universe, where he rules, but rules through despair and hatred.
In this world, he held court, punished his enemies, killed characters who interfered with his fantasies. But even here, he was unhappy. His entire creation screamed about his inability to achieve what he wanted. It was not the embodiment of strength, but its complete absence.
"A flawed god," I thought, smiling bitterly.
Even in his fictional reality, he remained a prisoner, bound by his complexes, hatred and pain.
This detail suddenly struck me. In his "fanfreak," the girl was younger than Asia Vieira. A child. And there was something deeper, something disturbing, to be seen in this. Maybe it was his attempt to create an idealized version of the woman Asia had never been in real life-young, pure, devoid of the life experience that destroys illusions.
Or perhaps it was his way of turning reality upside down. After all, in life, everything was the other way around: Asia was older, more mature, wiser. She was the one who, so to speak, wielded power and dominated - if only by virtue of her age and her role in life. The girl in the "fanfreak" could be a reflection of his unconscious pain. He wanted to be older, stronger, more important, but instead he remained younger, weaker, insignificant.
It was his way of asserting his power, at least within the confines of this sick world. His attempt to show that he was capable of creating his own reality, where everything was the opposite.
I continued reading the site and became more and more immersed in its gloomy atmosphere. Each page was imbued with madness, despair, and at the same time some strange zeal for order. Vitaly Ivolginsky described everything so methodically that it seemed as if he was not simply creating this world, but building it brick by brick, maniacally following some internal plan.
I was horrified by his obsession because I saw how deeply he dug for details about my wife. How he reshaped reality to fit his fantasies. Even the description of the movie she starred in was twisted: in it, he not only changed the plot, but also mocked the characters he considered his rivals.
He was like a parasite, feeding on the images of Asia Vieira's life, digesting them and throwing them out in the ugly form of his "fanfreaks". It seemed like every line on this site screamed about his disappointment, pain and jealousy.
But what really struck me was his attempt to construct an alternate reality where he was the protagonist. It was as pathetic as it was terrifying.
As I read on, I came across a strange detail in Ivolginsky's "fanfreak": he had two heroes, both interpretations of the same person from reality. The difference between them was in their fates: one died, and the other survived, as if the author could not decide what he wanted more - to destroy his rival or leave him to be taken away from him.
The first hero died tragically, and this death, judging by the text, was both cruel and symbolic. The second hero, on the contrary, remained alive, but his life turned into an endless cycle of humiliation and suffering, created by the author, as if Ivolginsky enjoyed the role of executioner.
I saw in this a clear split in his emotions. One part of him craved destruction, the other - submission. His text was filled with jealousy, as if he was taking revenge for something he could not get himself. Then I discovered another moment that made me chuckle at the absurdity. In Ivolginsky's "fanfreak" both heroes - the deceased and the survivor - were the complete opposite of each other. The deceased was a criminal, and the survivor - a policeman.
The death of the first was written as a kind of "just retribution", and the second, despite his profession, which implies order and protection of the law, became the one whom the author endlessly humiliated through the text. Ivolginsky seemed to enjoy the irony of this contrast, placing himself above both morality and the law.
This duality of characters indicated that the author himself was struggling with a conflict within himself. Perhaps he did not know who he hated more: those who violated laws and morals, or those who followed them, but at the same time remained a "rival" in his fantasies.
I sat in front of my laptop, staring at the crudely and ineptly designed website created on a free subdomain for beggars and homeless people. The page seemed to be the creation of a person who had completely lost all sense of proportion and, perhaps, common sense. Crudely written headings, an outdated and primitive design, a gallery with dozens of poorly executed pictures, in which the same girl in a brown dress the color of poop was repeated.
The site had it all: analyses of films in which Asia starred, quotes from her interviews, and a huge section dedicated to that very "fanfreak", I was torn apart with anger, but I kept scrolling. The more I read, the clearer its structure became. This was not just a site - it was a verified archive created by a person who had dedicated his entire life to this work.
First, I studied the section with pictures. The girl, in a brown dress the color of shit, is depicted on every page. The scenarios are similar, as if this figure has become a symbol in his sick universe. Sometimes she stands alone on the street, sometimes she sits in a room covered in mysterious inscriptions. The more I looked, the more I was struck by how carefully every detail was thought out. It was obvious that Vitaly Ivolginsky did not just draw her - he saw in her something deep, important to himself, something that was beyond my ability to understand.
Next came the sections on the "fanfreak", Here he described how he wrote the story, was inspired by a film in which my wife played, and deliberately added elements to the plot that were not in the original. The pages of text were filled with references to inspirations: the works of the Strugatsky brothers, the mysticism of Koji Suzuki, and books by little-known authors from the Soviet era.
But what got me was his character analysis. He wrote about the characters in the film as if they were part of his life. For example, he wrote about Asia's on-screen boyfriend with undisguised hatred.
"In my fanfreak, this man got what he deserved," he claimed, telling how he rewrote his fate, forcing him to die in a prison cell.
I shuddered with disgust. Did this man really think he had the right to carry out imaginary retribution on people he didn't even know?
And then I noticed something strange. There was no mention of the author on the site. No "About Me," no thanks, no hints about who he was. There were no captions on the pictures either. This was his shadow, a virtual space where he spoke but did not show himself.
Curiosity overwhelmed me. I started digging deeper, following links, returning to the gallery, rereading details about the "fanfreak". But everywhere I found the same thing: Asia, drawings, her filmography, plot analyses, but not him. As if he never existed. Or deliberately erased himself from reality, leaving only this ugly monument to his obsession.
As I read, I kept catching myself thinking: Who was he really? Why did he live this mania? What was his life like if my wife became its meaning?
I sat there, staring at the empty space between the lines, at those white spots where there was nothing but words, songs, drawings. But the author himself was not there. And this stirred my consciousness. Why? Why did he remain in the shadows, hiding behind pseudonyms and fictitious characters?
What did he want? Did he expect to meet Asia? It seemed absurd. All he did was fantasize about her, invent her image, back it up with melancholy songs about how he suffered because she was not with him. But if he really hoped to meet her, why didn't he leave any traces of himself? Why no personal information? No address, no photo, not even contact information! All that was there were empty lines that he wrote, as if in secret from the whole world.
I couldn't figure out what motivated him. He wanted recognition, but he hid himself. He dreamed that his stories would one day be read, but he hid behind a pseudonym, as if he didn't want to be found. Every word on this site is his silent scream into the void.
I sat there, staring at the screen, wondering why he was so careful to hide his identity. Suddenly, I began to unravel his behavior, and it occurred to me that perhaps this wasn't some abstract Russian psycho at all, but someone I knew. Maybe it was her neighbor? Or someone in her inner circle who couldn't reveal their feelings directly?
There were no photographs, no personal details. Just texts, pictures, songs, all of them filled with adoration and bitterness. All of it suggested that this man knew Asia, perhaps in real life. Maybe he was someone who saw her every day, one of her closest friends, or even just a neighbor on the landing, watching her successes and disappointments from afar. And so, somehow, his affection took shape in these frantic letters and songs. He was trying to create something great, but he could not transcend his own reality. This was his shadow, his fear - to admit that he would be no more than a part of her life, without the right to express himself.
But why not leave traces? Why not write who he is? After all, this mystery left me with more questions than answers.
I began to understand. This man was her neighbor. He was afraid that if his true identity was revealed, he would lose the chance to be with Asia Vieira, even in the shadows. He could not declare himself openly, like other admirers. Perhaps his attitude to life, to his own personal life, was so painfully hidden that he created this false identity, a writer from Russia, to keep distance between himself and reality.
He was afraid of intimacy, afraid of her reaction, that she would simply drive him away if she found out who he really was. Could he be the one who simply looked at her from afar? An ordinary neighbor on the stairs or someone who saw her face in everyday life, but never dared to talk? Maybe that's why he chose such a complex form - a pseudonym of a writer from Russia, distancing himself from the real "I". The one who wrote about her life, the life he saw and dreamed of, but could not have.
I began to understand why Russia. It was the perfect cover. Many people, especially in the circles where Asia Vieira might interact with fans, would associate such an interest with a mysterious, unattainable side. Russia was a distant country, a country with a closed culture, a country where the cult of personality and a strong sense of distance could create the illusion of mystery. He knew that if anyone knew who he really was, his aspirations would seem banal, ordinary, almost pathetic. But behind the pseudonym of a Russian writer, behind this myth, could be everything he wanted - namely, to have something he could never have in real life.
Russia is not just a geographical distance. It is a symbol of remoteness, inaccessibility, something invisible and almost mystically attractive that could justify his actions in the eyes of others.
I began to understand that all this time, hiding behind the fictional image of Vitaly Ivolginsky, this man was just a typical Canadian boy from Vancouver. He could walk the same streets as me, perhaps we could even cross paths by chance. But this persona he created for himself was his salvation, his way of being what he could not be in real life. Behind the screen, behind the texts and images, he could be anyone - a master manipulator, a creator of illusions.
He wasn't just trying to create a literary persona; he was creating an alternate reality where he could be close to my wife, a fan of hers, and then maybe more. In that world, he could be anything - a rock star, an artist, even a therapist. But in real life, his ordinary personality, which was probably never as close to those he fantasized about, remained hidden as long as he could remain behind an anonymous mask.
And that's when I realized it all. This psycho wasn't Russian. He was actually a Canadian living somewhere in Vancouver who was just trying to project this mysterious, "cool" Russian image. Yes, he thought that the mask of a Russian writer would add to his, a Canadian, mystery, and make him more interesting and attractive. And he seemed to think that this image was some kind of literary superpower that would lend special significance to his crazy fantasies about my wife.
But in reality, he was nothing more than a guy stuck in his house in front of his computer, trying to manipulate reality with words, pictures, and websites. He was missing something in real life, and he tried to build this whole world through the web, where no one knew him, saw him, or could touch him.
And all my theories about religion, faith and censorship turned out to be just false hypotheses built on superficial perception. In fact, this was just a man trying to create an illusion for himself, to be someone important, exciting. He filled the emptiness in his life with myths and fantasies about how he could be part of something great, something that would elevate him.
Vitaly Ivolginsky was not a cultural phenomenon, nor a symbol of disillusionment with Soviet censorship or religious repression. He was a simple Canadian who, out of his own hopelessness, began to build myths around his life and his desire to be part of something bigger.
This thought prompted me to begin to notice the falsehoods in his story. The first thing that caught my attention was his last name. I decided to Google it, as I did everything else that seemed strange to me in his biography. It turned out that his last name, "Ivolginsky," was completely non-existent, at least among real people. There was not a single trace on the Internet that it had ever been associated with anyone significant. Moreover, this name turned out not to be a last name, but rather a derivative of a word that was used in various contexts, including a reference to a certain Iwolginsky Datsan, a religious institution, but not a family name.
There was something artificial, fictitious about it. The man who was building a legend around himself couldn't even come up with a plausible last name. It made me think that his whole story was just a bunch of fabrications, fakes, to create an image that he could glorify. It wasn't just a mistake or a bad choice, but a conscious attempt to hide behind a fictitious persona.
As I continued to scroll through the site, I became increasingly irritated by the references to sources. The Strugatsky brothers, Koji Suzuki, Sergei Pavlov... What connection could these people have to the nonsense I was reading? The answer was obvious - none. This psycho simply typed in the first names he came across to create the impression that his creation had at least some significance, at least some connection to culture.
I was particularly struck by the mention of Suzuki, because this author was Japanese, not Russian, as he wanted to present himself. It was so absurd that it became clear that he did not even bother to understand who these people were. For him, they were just names that sounded "deep" and "meaningful," but in fact, empty words that had no connection with his story.
This was further proof that his entire story was just a product of his delirium, nothing more.
In an article about the making of his "masterpiece," I found something that simply couldn't help but make me laugh. The author wrote that he had never been to America, and that was why his descriptions were so inaccurate and unreliable. What kind of nonsense was this? It seemed like a brilliantly idiotic excuse to justify his mistakes in the plot and, most importantly, to cover up his origins. He was trying to hide behind the guise of a Russian, creating an image of a person who "doesn't know" America, and therefore cannot describe it truthfully. In reality, he was a Canadian who was simply trying to disguise himself in order to appear mysterious and complex.