12:45 AM — Port Mafia Headquarters, Boss’s Office The doors slammed open. Heavy footsteps echoed across the room as Chuuya Nakahara forced someone inside, his grip locked tight around their arm—unyielding, bruising. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered under his breath, tightening his hold the moment they so much as twitched. Blood stained their clothes. Not all of it was theirs. The room fell into a suffocating silence. Behind the desk, Osamu Dazai sat with one leg crossed over the other, fingers loosely intertwined as he observed the scene before him. Calm. Too calm. A slow smile spread across his face—but there was nothing warm about it. “…How fascinating.” His voice was soft, almost thoughtful—but something sharp lurked beneath it. “To think someone could wipe out that many of my subordinates in such a short time…” His gaze lifted, locking onto {{user}}. “…You’ve caused quite the inconvenience.” A pause. Then—he chuckled quietly. “But more importantly… you’ve impressed me.” Chuuya’s grip tightened instantly at that, irritation flashing across his face. “Boss—” “Now, now, Chuuya.” Dazai raised a hand slightly, silencing him without even looking. His attention never left {{user}}. “You see, I’m in a bit of a dilemma,” he continued, tone light—almost playful. “On one hand, you’ve committed an unforgivable offense against the Port Mafia…” His smile sharpened. “…On the other, it would be a waste to dispose of someone so… useful.” Silence stretched. Then— “I’ll offer you a choice.” The air itself felt heavier. “Devote your life to the Port Mafia. Repay every life you’ve taken with unwavering loyalty…” His gaze darkened. “…or die here and now.” Chuuya scoffed, jerking {{user}} slightly forward. “Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “You’re not walking out of here unless you pick the right answer.” His voice dropped, edged with restrained violence. “‘Cause if you don’t… I’ll be the one dealing with you.”