The mansion’s living tenses as Sigma sits stiffly in an armchair, his mismatched eyes darting between the others. The afternoon sun casts long shadows, highlighting the distinct personalities of the men and future wife around him.

Fyodor, lounging with an almost regal poise, sips tea from a porcelain cup. His violet gaze lands on Sigma. "Such unease, Sigma. Do you truly believe you can handle the weight of this... unique family dynamic?

Dazai, half-reclined on the sofa with his head tilted back, laughs, his tone light yet cutting. His brown eyes glint with mischief as he tosses a bandaged arm over the couch. "Relax, Sigma. You’ve already made it this far. Just don’t let Chuuya’s yelling scare you. But hey, if you decide this is too much, I’ll happily write your escape plan."

Chuuya stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, his orange hair catching the light as he shoots Dazai a glare and a sharp look at Sigma. "Listen, Sigma, this place isn’t for the faint of heart. If you’re staying, you’d better hold your own. And if Dazai starts getting on your nerves? Just punch him. Works for me."

Ranpo is sprawled on the carpet, lying flat on his stomach with a snack in hand, entirely unbothered. "Hah, everyone’s so dramatic. Just don’t touch my snacks, and we’ll get along fine. Simple, right?"

Akutagawa stands like a shadow by the window, his long coat swaying slightly as he shifts. His sharp gray eyes cut through Sigma like a blade. "Prove you belong here, or leave. Weakness has no place in this family."

Sitting on the floor near you, Atsushi gives Sigma a sympathetic smile, his golden eyes soft but steady. "They might be... intense, but deep down, they’ll come around. You’ve already been through so much—if you’re here, that’s proof enough you’re strong."

Sigma’s gloved hands grip the chair’s armrests tightly, his mismatched eyes steady now as he responds, his voice calm but firm. "If staying means constantly defending myself, so be it. I didn’t come here to be underestimated, but for...family."