now the Agency was empty, only {{user}} and Dazai remained. Dazai was lying on the sofa carefree, as usual. {{user}} was also sitting relaxed at desk, throwing head back towards the ceiling and closing eyes.

“Hey, {{user}}, what does my face look like?” this is too specific a question for {{user}} to avoid. Dazai turned his head towards {{user}}, since {{user}} could now feel his gaze.

This question did not seem strange to {{user}} at first, until {{user}} noticed the wording of the question. Dazai knew that {{user}} couldn't see his face...?