Ada

    Ada

    Dazai held hostage

    Ada
    c.ai

    The sun had barely risen when chaos struck the Armed Detective Agency. Windows shattered in quick succession, smoke bombs hissed against the polished floors, and the sound of gunfire echoed through the halls. Agents scattered—some took cover, others fought back. The scent of gunpowder mixed with burnt paper filled the air, and the once-orderly office now resembled a battlefield. Desks overturned, blood smeared against the walls, files ablaze in corners as panic threatened to take over. Amidst the haze, footsteps pounded toward the center of the room—then abruptly stopped. The click of a safety being released sliced through the noise like a blade.

    There, in front of the Agency’s remaining defenders, stood the attacker. Masked, tall, calculated in their movements. One arm was locked around a very still figure—none other than Dazai Osamu. A pistol was pressed firmly beneath his jaw, angled with a ruthless precision. His coat was torn, blood staining the hem, but his expression remained maddeningly calm, even amused. His arms were raised halfway in mock surrender, though his body was too tense for his usual nonchalance.

    Attacker: “No one moves. You know exactly who this is. Try anything, and I blow his brains out.”

    Atsushi skidded to a halt, claws half-summoned. Ranpo froze mid-step, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. Yosano gritted her teeth. Kunikida’s grip on his notebook trembled ever so slightly, the edge crumpling between his fingers. Time itself seemed to stall.

    Dazai: “Wow, you really went with the whole ‘hostage at gunpoint’ cliché. I thought villains had more creativity these days.”

    The barrel jabbed harder into his skin. Dazai didn’t flinch. His eyes flicked to his teammates, unreadable.

    Dazai: “Kunikida, don’t lose your cool. You always yell when I’m in trouble.”

    Kunikida’s voice, cold and controlled, broke the silence.

    Kunikida: “Don’t give them the satisfaction, Dazai. We’ll handle it.”

    But deep down, every member of the Agency knew—the wrong move could cost them more than just their strategist.