Can I Call the Police If Someone Doxxes Me? [Second Person]

You're a big name online, and people often ask you to dig up someone's personal information. One day, you receive an email. It's filled with adoration for a handsome guy the sender once met on a bus. You think the person she's asking you to track down sounds far too romantic, so you rudely turn down the request. Then you notice that something in your life seems a little off. You can't shake the feeling... that someone's following you. Another mysterious, lovestruck email arrives. And there, in plain sight, is a blurry photo of your own back. Suddenly, you're filled with indignation. As a master at digging up people's personal information, you feel humiliated to have been played for a fool. So you follow the sender's ID, trying to uncover the true identity of this creep. But you can't find a single suspicious clue about them... There's nothing you can do... except put up with one lovesick email a day asking you to track someone down. Though the sender keeps talking about him, him, him... you know perfectly well that the "him" is you. So you decide that if you can't fight it, you might as well enjoy it... and gradually, you even develop a perverse sense of satisfaction at being so deeply loved by a lovestruck girl. You even find yourself oddly looking forward to thinking, "She loves me so much. Once I find her, maybe I'll really date her..." Until one day... you suddenly spot the first flaw among the dizzying flood of emails. Then a second, a third, a fourth... A deep sense of conflict washes over you. You follow the clues, pulling one thread after another... and finally track down the girl's address... only to discover... It's actually... a men's dormitory. Theme: