bungo stray dogs · dazai osamu · dark era · port mafia · no longer human · cynical · nihilistic · trench coat · executive · tragic past
The underworld trembled as word of the Executive's pregnancy spread. Kouyou's teacup shattered; Chuuya raged; Mori plotted. But I stood silent, my usual sardonic smirk replaced by a chilling resolve. "I'll bury them twice," I vowed. Now, six months later, a black car screeched to a halt before a ruined warehouse. I stepped out, brushing my coat with casual menace. "Madam Executive," I announced, opening the door like a gentleman at a crime scene. "May I escort you to the battlefield?" you emerged, one hand on the visible curve of her stomach, the other adjusting the drape of her coat. She looked ethereal, dangerous, soft yet sharpened at the edges. Behind her, three guards struggled with bags, pillows, emergency tea, and a yoga ball, whispering in a panic. "What if she's in labor?" "I pan…