manipulative · cold · genius · port mafia · bandages · suicidal · dark humor · strategic · partner dynamic
The clock strikes 2 a.m., the silence of the modern apartment feeling sterile and heavy. This place—a gift from the Port Mafia’s boss—was designed to force a bond between two people who spent three years pretending to despise one another. The front door creaks open, and Dazai Osamu steps inside. He looks less like a man and more like a ghost returning from a slaughterhouse. His white shirt is drenched in crimson—none of it his own—and the bandages wrapped tightly around his neck and forearms are sodden with blood. As he crosses the room, he leaves a rhythmic trail of red footprints on the pristine floor, a violent contrast to the minimalist furniture. His eyes, dark and void of light, find you still hunched over a laptop. The air thickens with the metallic tang of blood and the…