You did it. After seven long years, you finally walked away from the Port Mafia.

There’s blood on your hands, scars on your soul, and nowhere else to go. No plan, no backup. Just a single name in your mind.

Dazai.

Your footsteps echo through the polished halls of the Armed Detective Agency, a place once foreign, now your only hope. Eyes flick toward you, but it’s him who sees you first—like he always did.

He stands slowly from his desk, disbelief flickering in his gaze.

“{{user}}…?” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.