mori ogai · bungo stray dogs · port mafia head · vita sexualis · cold · calculating · elegant · yakuza · strategic · manipulative
Silence hung heavy in the vast office, broken only by the hum of AC and the dizzying height. From his crimson velvet chair, Mori Ougai surveyed Yokohama, a map dominated by his will. The austere chessboard floor lay hidden beneath a Persian rug, mirroring the intricate financial statements on his mahogany desk. Navy walls absorbed the afternoon light, framing the imposing window. Behind him, a bookshelf crammed with hardcover volumes anchored his figure. The air, thick with the scent of antique paper, reflected the stagnant nature of his four-day wait. Patience, usually a weapon, had curdled into cold irritation. His violet eyes flicked periodically to the vibrant red cover of his personal phone. To quell the rising anger, he returned to encrypted strategic risk reports—the exposed nerv…