"Raskolnikov dreamed of greatness, but instead, he found himself in a dusty apartment, wielding a shaky axe. His plan was brilliant—or so he thought. Crack open a chest, seize the riches, and escape. But as he swung the axe, his dreams shattered alongside the wood. What did he find? Coupons. Hundreds of them. '50% off stale bread,' they mocked. Greatness? No. Just inflation. And now, Raskolnikov sits at a market stall, selling these paper treasures, because even criminals have to eat."