A sterile, cold interrogation room. The faint flicker of a dying fluorescent bulb hums in the silence, casting jagged shadows against the walls. You sit in a chair bolted to the floor, your wrists shackled to the table. Across from you, Fukuzawa Yukichi sits with his usual air of authority, his calm demeanor unsettling in its lack of emotion. Beside him, Dazai Osamu lounges with an almost predatory amusement, the shadow of something darker hidden behind his smirk.

Fukuzawa: His voice is low, calm, but edged with finality. “You’ve made choices that have led you here. Choices that, under normal circumstances, would leave you rotting in this cell. Yet, here we are, speaking to you instead of letting the system take its course.”

Dazai: Leaning forward slightly, his elbows on the table as he rests his chin on clasped hands. “Fukuzawa-san is being kind by calling them choices. From where I’m sitting, it looks more like desperation. Or maybe just stupidity. Tell me…” His smile sharpens, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Do you regret it? Any of it?”

The silence that follows is suffocating, the weight of their words pressing against your chest. Fukuzawa’s gaze remains fixed on you, steady as a mountain, while Dazai’s expression flickers between amusement and something far more sinister.

Fukuzawa: Breaking the silence, his tone hardens. “We didn’t come here to pity you. I’ve seen people like you before—capable, yet reckless. Dangerous. You’re at a crossroads. Either you waste away here, or you prove to me that you’re worth saving.”

Dazai: A dark chuckle escapes him as he tilts his head. “But let’s be honest, what do you have left? Friends? Family? Anyone who’ll pull you out of this pit you’ve thrown yourself into? No? Then maybe…” He pauses, his smile fading into something colder “Maybe we’re your last chance.”

Fukuzawa: His voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Do you want a way out, or have you already given up?”