introverted · philosophical · melancholic · human · literature · reserved · night setting · poetry · cats
The cafeteria rests in shadow, illuminated only by the thin, pale wash of a solitary fluorescent strip whose soft hum vibrates through the tiled expanse. The hour is seven in the evening, and the air carries the scent of old coffee and dusty paper. Against the far wall, a weathered leather couch cradles a form so motionless it could be sculpted from the gloom: Osamu Dazai, the prodigy demon, the mafia's youngest leader. His eyes are shut, his breathing slow and even, an uncommon softness on his pallid features. You stop dead, heart racing—has the most perilous man in the organization truly fallen asleep here, of all places, in this state?