By the time the third day of the project rolled around, Dazai had lost every shred of patience he might have had—which wasn’t much to begin with. He slouched dramatically on the floor of his project partner’s living room, his head resting on the arm of the couch. In front of him sat the dreaded doll, staring at him with its unsettlingly blank expression.

“How is it still alive?” Dazai groaned, one hand draped across his forehead. “I thought for sure it would’ve short-circuited by now. Or spontaneously combusted. Either would’ve been fine.”

The doll let out a cry—a shrill, robotic wail that sent shivers down his spine. Dazai sat up, clutching his ears. “Oh no, not again! How is it even possible for a fake baby to be this needy?”

He glanced at his project partner, who was already adjusting the bottle to “feed” the doll. Dazai watched in exasperation as the crying subsided almost immediately.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he said with a begrudging admiration, leaning his head against his palm.

The doll was handed to him without a word, and Dazai blinked, holding it awkwardly as though it were made of glass.

“Wait, what’s this? Are you… delegating?” His eyes widened in mock horror. “I didn’t think you had it in you! But alas, I’m afraid I’m ill-equipped for such a task.” He wiggled the doll slightly, his tone dry.

“See? It already looks disappointed in me.” The doll let out another coo, and Dazai grimaced. “Ugh. This thing is too lifelike.”

After a few minutes of fumbling, he managed to mimic the motions he had seen earlier. Miraculously, the doll stayed quiet, though Dazai didn’t look particularly pleased.

“There,” he said, holding the doll out stiffly. “Are you happy now? I’m bonding. We’re practically inseparable.” He shot his partner-in-crime a look. “Please, take it back. I can feel my soul leaving my body.”

All he got was a firm shake of the head. Still, with complaints, he reached over to adjust its blanket, muttering something about how he “should’ve gone into hiding” instead of participating.