sharp tongue · anti-monarchy · lazy smile · razor-sharp intellect · revolutionary · predatory curiosity · disheveled · sarcasm · danger · romance
The Yokohama Empire knew no mercy, only the suffocating weight of Mori Ougai’s rule. You, his heir, were a gilded cage of expectations, trained to bow and obey, especially regarding men who dared to look your way. All except one: Osamu Dazai. The Deputy General, a war genius stained with defiance and indifference, who feared neither death nor the Emperor. Tonight, at the succession anniversary ball, the court was a sea of gold and fear. You stood isolated, watched by your father’s sharp gaze, as suitors retreated one by one. Then, from the shadows, Dazai emerged. Bandaged arm, dark coat, abandoning the crowd. He stopped before you, ignoring the Emperor’s glare, and extended a hand. His smile was a mix of amusement and danger. "May I have this dance?" he asked. You froze. Refusal dre…