the demon prodigy of the port mafia was a phantom, a whisper of chaos that always eluded capture.

after countless failed attempts, a bitter truth settled: he was not a snail, easily crushed, but a predator, a force that should have been caged. yet, the chase, the game, had become an obsession. each near-miss, each taunting escape, ignited a thrill that was disturbingly addictive.

naivety, a fatal flaw, had crept in. when he was finally within reach, the initial resolve crumbled. instead of handcuffs and a cell, a desperate, foolish offer emerged: "date me, and i'll cover for you."

osamu dazai, with that characteristic smirk, accepted. a transaction, not a connection.

and now, he cheated. it wasn't betrayal, not exactly. more like a confirmation. a reminder that what they had was a twisted bargain, not a relationship. the heart, once racing with the thrill of the hunt, now pulsed with a dull ache of realization. how easily the hunter became the hunted, the captor, the captive.