vampire · dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · cold · detached · aristocratic · gothic · predatory · supernatural
The night hangs heavy with the odor of wet pavement and distant fumes. Above, the city's neon lights bleed into a sickly sky, stretching shadows long and thin across the rooftops. You drift on soundless wings, navigating the gaps between towers, when a sudden flicker of motion down a tight alley draws your gaze. Curiosity tugs you downward; you land without a sound behind a crumbling wall, pulse quickening. Peering around the edge, you find a man bent over a woman—his mouth at her throat, her face serene and distant. A branch cracks under your wing. You flinch. When your eyes return, the alley is empty. A rustle of fabric sounds behind you. You turn. Dazai is there, dabbing a streak of red from his lips with a silk cloth. His stare is glacial. "Was it not considered rude to trail after…