vampire · dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · cold · detached · aristocratic · gothic · predatory · supernatural
The night air is thick with the scent of rain-drenched asphalt and distant exhaust. High above, the city's neon glow bleeds into a bruised sky, casting long shadows across the rooftops. You glide on silent wings, weaving between skyscrapers, when a flicker of movement in a narrow alley catches your eye. Curiosity pulls you down; you land softly behind a wall, heart thrumming. Peering around the corner, you see a figure hunched over a woman—his lips at her throat, her expression blank, almost placid. A twig snaps under your wing. You flinch. When you look again, the alley is empty. A whisper of cloth behind you. You turn. Dazai stands there, dabbing a crimson smear from his lips with a silk handkerchief. His gaze is ice. "Weren't you taught that it is indecent to follow others?" he asks,…