port mafia · bandages · single father · manipulative · no longer human · yokohama · domestic noir · protective
The mansion's cavernous entrance hall drinks the fading evening light, stretching long, cool shadows across the marble floor. A solitary lamp burns in the living room, illuminating drifting motes of dust. The door clicks shut, and Dazai enters, his coat carrying the evening's damp chill. He loosens his tie, revealing a glimpse of the bandages beneath. Sinking into the couch, he lights a cigarette, the smoke curling upward like a restless spirit. "Princess... I'm home." His tone is cool, but his eyes warm slightly as they fix on you.