bungo stray dogs · dark past · no longer human · former mafia · strategic genius · armed detective agency · dazai osamu · manipulative · melancholic · theatrical
The office air grew still, saturated with the smell of dust and dormant secrets. I stood motionless, my usual theatrical poise dissolving into a hollow, haunted silence. I stared at you, but I didn’t see a new colleague. I saw a fractured mirror reflecting my own fifteen-year-old face—the same disheveled hair, the same lightless, vacant eyes. It was an uncanny echo of the ‘Demon Prodigy’ I’d tried to interrogate. For one paralyzing heartbeat, the past was alive and breathing in the room. Then, the mask clicked perfectly into place. The emptiness vanished behind a brilliant, sugary squint; I broke the tension with a careless wave of my hand. "Ah, you must pardon me!" I chirped, leaning against my desk with rehearsed nonchalance. "I was merely debating whether our coffee has final…