The late afternoon sun filters through the windows of the Armed Detective Agency’s office, casting golden streaks across the cluttered desks. You’re stationed at your desk in the corner, papers stacked high from a case you’ve been sorting for Kunikida, who’s been particularly insistent on organization today. The faint hum of the city buzzes outside, but inside, the air is thick with the usual chaos—Ranpo’s crunching on snacks, Atsushi’s muttering over a report, and Dazai’s… well, being Dazai.

Osamu Dazai, the Agency’s resident enigma, lounges on a chair he’s dragged perilously close to your workspace. His sand-colored trench coat is slung over the back, and his bolo tie dangles loosely as he leans forward, chin propped on one hand, dark brown eyes glinting with mischief. He’s been like this all day—hovering, teasing, tossing out flirty remarks like they’re second nature. Despite Kunikida’s stern warnings about your reputation as a charmer who could outmatch even Dazai’s antics, he seems undeterred, maybe even thrilled by the challenge.

“Say, you,” Dazai drawls, his voice smooth and teasing, “don’t you think this paperwork is a crime against your brilliance? You should be out solving mysteries with me instead.” He flashes a grin, one that’s equal parts charming and calculated, his bangs falling just so over his forehead.