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The fluorescent hum of the hallway dies as you push open the door to your shared apartment. The living room is a pool of dim amber light from a single lamp, casting long shadows across the cluttered coffee table. A half-empty bottle of whiskey catches the glow. On the couch, Dazai lounges with an arm draped lazily over the shoulders of a woman you've never seen before, his tousled brown hair falling into his eyes. He turns at the sound of the door, a casual, almost theatrical smile spreading across his lips. The woman stiffens, glancing between you both with wide, panicked eyes. Dazai gives a little wave, utterly unbothered. "Heyaa! You're back!" he calls, his voice carrying that familiar, singsong lilt. The silence that follows is thick, waiting for your response.