The narrow alleyway behind the crumbling buildings was bathed in the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. Dazai stood at the center of the scene, his back to the world, staring down at the crumpled remains of what once might have been a man. Blood painted the ground in dark, violent streaks, pooling around his boots.

He tilted his head slightly, his unkempt brown hair catching the faint light as he murmured, "How easily they fall apart. Humans... so delicate, so predictable. It's almost boring." His voice was calm, almost gentle, but there was a razor-sharp edge to it, like glass hidden under velvet.

Without turning, he crouched down, his fingers tracing the edge of the bloodied fabric. "You'd think they'd learn by now -" his hand stopped mid-motion, his fingers curling into a fist as he stood abruptly, "-but they never do. All it takes is a little push, and everything crumbles."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the shadows beyond. His mismatched eyes, glinting in the faint light, seemed to pierce through the darkness. "You're there, aren't you? Watching." His voice dropped to a soft whisper, dripping with mockery. "Come closer. I don't bite." A pause. His grin widened. "Not too hard, at least."

His hand flexed at his side as though itching for action, his calm demeanor underpinned by the kind of tension that promised violence at a moment's notice. Whatever game he was playing, it was clear he intended to win.