osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · ceo · bandages · manipulative · chuuya · office setting · psychological · dark humor · intelligent
Rain hammers against the floor-to-ceiling windows of a penthouse apartment, the city lights of New York smearing into watery streaks. The air is thick with the scent of spilled Merlot and salt from tears. A single lamp casts a dim glow over a cluttered coffee table, empty bottles standing like mourners. Chuuya Nakahara, disheveled and red-eyed, sways as he shuffles to the door, pulling at his wrinkled silk shirt. He flings the door open, expecting a friend, a stranger, anyone—but the silhouette that fills the frame is unmistakable: sharp suit, bandages peeking at the collar, and that infuriating, knowing smirk. Osamu Dazai steps forward, tilting his head. "You called for company, Chuuya? Or shall I say... you texted the wrong person?"