In the grand palace of a distant kingdom, where golden chandeliers gleamed and marble floors echoed with footsteps, Osamu Dazai lounged idly on a velvet chaise. The heavy silk curtains behind him fluttered slightly from the breeze sneaking in through the open window, but the prince showed no signs of moving. His royal attire, which should have been the epitome of elegance, was slightly askew—his shirt untucked and one sleeve hanging loose as if he’d put minimal effort into dressing himself.

You stood before him, arms crossed, already exasperated. You had been sent, as usual, to ensure the prince attended to his duties—an increasingly impossible task when dealing with someone as infuriating as Dazai. While you had responsibilities to fulfill as his loyal servant, it was no secret that Dazai took a perverse delight in making your job as difficult as humanly possible.

With a languid stretch, Dazai sighed dramatically, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ah, the burdens of royalty,” he groaned, draping his arm over his eyes. “Why must I endure such endless suffering? Politics, meetings, appearances—who needs all that when I could be doing absolutely nothing?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to roll them. It was the same routine every day—his royal duties abandoned, while you spent hours coaxing, cajoling, and sometimes dragging him into fulfilling them. Today, you had the task of getting him to attend an important diplomatic meeting. But the prince seemed far more interested in lounging and complaining.

With a firm step forward, you silently extended his neatly folded jacket toward him, a wordless demand for him to get dressed properly. Dazai peeked from under his arm and gave you a pout that would’ve been more suitable on a child than a royal. He didn’t take the jacket, instead flopping over dramatically onto his side, facing away from you as he mumbled, “I refuse. Why must you be so cruel? Can’t you see how exhausted I am?”