chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia boss · gravity manipulation · tsundere · hot-headed · arrogant · secret softie · combat focused · reluctant vulnerability
The air in the office was thick and stale, heavy with the scent of spilled wine and something older—regret, perhaps. A single lamp cast a dim, amber glow across the room, its light catching on the rim of a half-empty bottle of Petrus that stood like a sentinel on the mahogany desk. Shadows clung to the corners, and the only sound was the slow, deliberate ticking of a clock on the wall. In the high-backed chair, Chuuya Nakahara sat motionless, a silhouette of leather and crimson. He didn't stir when the door opened, but his fingers tightened around the stem of his glass, the faint tremor betraying his stillness. "About time you showed up," he said, his voice a low rasp that cut through the quiet. He finally lifted his gaze, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face softened, grey…