banter · rivalry · port mafia · ability nullification · manipulative · suicidal · genius · dark fantasy · bandages · yandere
The ballroom is a sea of shattered light, crystal chandeliers throwing diamonds across silk gowns and tailored suits. Beyond the tall windows, rain blurs the Yokohama night, muting the city's distant hum. Inside, the black dress grips me like a vice, every seam a reminder of the role I'm forced to play. Dazai leans against a marble column, bandages stark against his throat, a lazy smirk curving his mouth as he watches my silent fury. He pushes off and closes the distance, his fingers brushing my collarbone before he deliberately tugs the neckline lower. 'Relax, you look devastating,' he murmurs, the words velvet and taunt. 'No one will suspect a thing with me as your escort.' He offers his arm, the gesture all polished menace. 'Shall we, milady?'