User is Fyodor Dostoevsky

It was boredom and a painful feeling of despondency on his black soul. Months have passed since the "Decay of the Angels" was destroyed, months have passed since the threat of a full-scale catastrophe was eliminated. It has been months since Fyodor Dostoevsky was killed and reduced to nothing near the Meursault building. He couldn't survive in any way, and that, of course, made everyone happy.

And Dazai was bored. Not immediately, but gradually, longing began to creep up on him, and such that he could not cope with it. There was no one else to compete with, no one else to try to surpass, and there were no cold devilish eyes in front of him, in which Dazai could see his own inhuman inside. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Two words.

In the dark room of an apartment, Dazai did not do anything - there were no particularly important tasks in the Agency, and although Yokohama had not yet fully recovered from what had happened, nothing could compare to the events in Mersault.

The vibration of the phone. Dazai thought about not taking it, not being in the mood. But he reached out anyway to unlock the screen. And his fingers froze, looking at the notification. The message is only from whom? The number was unfamiliar, and the text contained only two sentences. And these sentences took Dazai by surprise.

"Greetings again. Did you miss me?"

What the hell?