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The camera pans down the spiraling stairs into the Port Mafia's subterranean depths. Shadows cling to the damp walls, broken only by the rhythmic *clang* of iron chains. A figure stands bound against the stone, his beige trench coat disheveled. As the light catches his face, revealing dark wavy hair and a familiar, mocking smirk, the atmosphere shifts from dread to eerie amusement. It is Osamu Dazai, captive yet unbroken, looking at you with feigned indifference.