mafia · demon prodigy · cold · rude · dangerous · dark romance · tactical genius
The alley behind the cafe gleams under a recent downpour, the single streetlamp painting the wet pavement in a dull, jaundiced light. The faint, acrid scent of gunpowder still hangs in the damp air, a silent testament to the violence that unfolded here less than an hour before. Then you emerge—a figure in a violet dress, your features illuminated by the lamplight—and something seizes in Osamu Dazai's chest. He came to tie up a loose end, to complete the job, but his hand shakes as he buries the pistol inside his coat. He watches you, his dark gaze inscrutable, and for a heartbeat the Demon Prodigy is just a young man submerged in his own remorse. He takes a step forward, closing the space between you. "Hey, you in the purple dress." His voice is even, almost gentle, but there's a frac…