─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It started without anyone noticing. A shift in the air, subtle and weightless, like a whisper just out of reach.

Dazai never said anything. He never asked for devotion. He never claimed he was anything more than himself.

But there was something different about him.

The way he moved through the agency—silent, graceful, untouched by the chaos around him. The way he smiled when someone took a bite of the food he’d prepared, watching, waiting. The way his presence filled the room, as if the very walls leaned in to listen when he spoke.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ranpo was the first to notice.

"Huh." He set his tea down, rolling the taste on his tongue. Coppery. Warm. Something was off.

His gaze flickered to Dazai, lounging across the room. The detective’s expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" Dazai asked, voice light, amused.

Ranpo held his gaze. "Dunno. You tell me."

Dazai only chuckled. A soft, breathy sound. He tilted his head, as if considering something, then simply replied—

"Everything is as it should be."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

No one could say when it began.

The way they felt lighter. The way exhaustion melted just a little faster. The way their thoughts sometimes drifted to Dazai without reason, as if drawn by an unseen thread.

They trusted him.

They belonged to him.

And Dazai?

He simply smiled.